


metaphors

by fulltimeaddicted



Category: Minecraft diaries - Fandom, aphmau - Fandom, mystreet
Genre: Abuse, Alcoholism, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay, Hinted Depression, LGBT, M/M, Mentioned Pregnancy, Oral, Smut, These tags are wild, aarmau - Freeform, angst but fluff, aphmau is a mom, blowjob, but the blowjob isn’t in detail, dante~chan - Freeform, garroth just needs a hug, i know i did, laurance is a little shit, laurance is adopted, mental health, neither is the sex, smut??? maybe???, the smut isn’t until ages tho, the straights are only mentioned, travlyn happened once in a dream, you will probably cry, zianna is an alcoholic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulltimeaddicted/pseuds/fulltimeaddicted
Summary: "calling it a metaphor is easier than admitting that im lying to myself."someone’s too much and another’s not enough. eventually the edges are going to crack.~also on wattpad @fulltimeaddicted, as well as other works!





	1. garroth

**Author's Note:**

> please follow my wattpad where you can find metaphors and other stories @fulltimeaddicted !!
> 
> also, please donate to my ko-fi to support my writing! ko-fi.com/epiphanistic

January always calls for something new. It's a new year - only a couple days strong - and things might just live up to the unrealistic 'new year, new me' trope. Or they might not. Probably not. 

Senior year is already a few months in at Phoenix Drop High and I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for the end of it. But that's just me, and things mostly work out if you worry about them hard enough, right? 

It's not like there's much for me to be anxious about. I already have a job for life (taking over my father's position as the mayor of the biggest city in the country, but that's totally irrelevant and not cripplingly pressuring at all), and it's not like I won't get accepted into the colleges I've applied for. My dad is possibly one of the nicest guys in the entire world, but it's kind of oddly terrifying to have the sweet guy go full on Hulk if his children don't get the best opportunities possible. How about that?

I could say things are easy, but oh boy would that be both completely wrong and a cliché. I suppose things are never as simple as a first impression. 

One of my best friends, Dante (who's sat next to me while I mindlessly sunbathe in no sun at all, because it's the middle of winter), chats endlessly to one of my other friends while his electric blue hair follows the wind as he speaks. He's been my good friend of mine for a while, since freshman year, and I always seem to turn into the most boyish person in the entire world when I'm with him. We never seem to get anything done together, and we're constantly ending up in trouble from giggling too much over something that obviously wasn't funny. Dante smiles with his eyes before his lips, and I think it's that that makes him so great. I knew we were going to be close since I met him in freshman year. 

Oddly enough, I don't actually live where I'm supposed to be working for the rest of my life once I finish school. I'm an insecure asshole who doesn't like the attention - which is painfully ironic -  so my family decided to move until I'm old enough to deal with myself. It just means that I don't see my dad often, but boohoo, I guess. It's my fault. 

Travis, who Dante is speaking with, tends to be pretty friendly. There's an odd aura about him that just makes you want to talk to him, and I don't know if it's his unusually natural white hair or soft features, but everyone likes him. I don't think I've ever seen him angry, and, if I'm completely sincere, I'm not sure he's capable of it. 

The other two sat with me are the couple of the group, Aphmau and Aaron. They've been together since the end of junior year and managed to stick all summer, so I suppose I'm going to have to get used to the constant PDA. Leaning against a tree, they look over each other's phones together comfortably. 

There isn't anyone else dating in the group and we're all fine with that. Travis is still recovering from his last girl, I'm not really sure what Dante's doing, and I haven't had a girlfriend since freshman year and I doubt it'll happen soon. I'm too friendly with all of the girls in my year to be attracted to them, and there isn't anyone else I'm interested in at the moment. We're all okay with being single. 

Aphmau is my partner in crime, and also my other best friend. I've never met someone that cares so much about the people in her life; I love her a lot for that. We've been friends since freshman year, but we never stop messing with each other. We bicker like siblings and she's honestly the sister I never had, especially since I only have two younger brothers. We're exactly the same in everything apart from appearance; she's a petite Latina girl with raven black spirally hair and a cute, pretty face, and I really just am not. 

Her boyfriend, Aaron, is probably twice the size of her and very buff and daunting, but honestly he's a huge softie. He has a chiseled face and dark tousled hair, but he's head-over-heels for his girlfriend and incredibly smart. He wants to go into medicine when he leaves high school, and I know he has the intelligence for it. He's definitely the one to copy homework off of. 

Sometimes the group is a little bigger when Aphmau invites her other friends to come and sit with us, but this is generally it. Most of the time, we're comfortable enough to sit in silence, so no one really questions me when I lay my head back in the freshly mowed grass, letting my uncontrollable mess of curly blond hair fall back on the floor with me. I'm enjoying the only slightly annoying cold while it lasts, but coming back to school after a long break also makes me stupidly fatigued. Currently, I want nothing more than to be in my bed at home, napping away all of my responsibilities until I don't have to deal with them anymore. 

Reality is cruel. 

The bell rings not long after I lay down, and everyone gathers their things to head off to our next period. I don't have any classes with my friends until after lunch, so I embark on my journey to my history class by myself to take a well-deserved nap. 

After that lesson, the next one whizzes by quickly. It happens to be a double period, so it means that I have lunch break straight after. I greet my friends at our normal spot as I sit down next to the only girl with us at the moment, and she decides to split her muffin with me. Her boyfriend was not happy with that. 

When Travis and Dante arrive, they have another boy in tow. He looks completely unfamiliar, which is really confusing considering I know pretty much everyone that goes here just because they know me. Not surprising, though; the new year tends to bring new students with it. I'm just shocked that he's a senior - usually they manage to stick it out until graduation. I guess not this time. 

Our group has an unwavering tendency to take in anyone who seems like they need a friend. That's how Travis and Aaron joined us, as well as a few other people that sit with us occasionally. We're literally the senior Samaritans. 

"We made a friend!" Dante announces triumphantly, and I instantly feel bad for the guy. Dante can be very overwhelming. "He just started today. This is Laurance, everyone." 

Laurance is very much beautiful. I have a tendency to notice all aspects of beauty in everyone, whether that be girls or boys. I don't think it's weird to admit that guys can be pretty, because it's observation rather than attraction. 

He has choppy, mullet length brown hair, deep tan skin that makes him seem very exotic and welcoming, and he's a little shorter than me with a petite build. He smiles sheepishly. 

He seems approachable and friendly, and obviously way more attractive than I am. Definitely a good hit to the ego. 

"Oh and, guess what his last name is, Garroth!" Travis addresses me. 

Yep, Garroth, too. Thanks parents for giving me a middle aged mans' name! It's even spelt weird. 

"I don't know, Hamburger?" I aimlessly predict, propping myself up by my arms as I sit. "How am I supposed to know? Why are you asking me?" 

The rest of my friends laugh at my obviously stupid assumption. I'm pretty sure Laurance bites back a smile, too. 

Travis shakes his head, grinning. "Okay, that was kind of dumb of me. He's a Zvahl!" 

"Really?" I question in disbelief. 

The Zvahl's are in a similar position to my family. Hayden Zvahl is the Lord of Meteli, a city not very far from here, which means that he works closely with my father, who works in O'Khasis. I knew of Hayden's daughter, since she's supposed to take his place as I am my father's, but I was less informed about his son - only that he merely existed. I'm surprised that this is what he looks like. He looks nothing like Hayden, who's generally very pale - and I'm pretty sure his wife is a red head - so one could see where my confusion is coming from. I'm pretty sure Laurance is mixed race. 

Laurance looks a lot older than his sister Cadenza, which doesn't seem right. I know that Cadenza is a sophomore currently (the same age as my youngest brother), so it doesn't make sense that Laurance is a senior. The eldest is supposed to be the heir, and to me, this doesn't seem like the case. But maybe I'm just being an idiot. 

Laurance nods, turning to Dante.  "You're friends with Garroth Ro'meave?" He even has a nice voice, damn it. 

I also have weird surname. Why? I do not know. 

"No, I fucking hate him." Dante tells him in unconvincing sarcasm. I love my friends!

"Piss off." I say. 

"Now you're friends with a famous boy!" Aphmau cheers. 

I punch her in the arm. "I'm not famous, you asscheek. Stop idolising me so you look cooler."

"But you're my favourite idol!" She teases, bearing a fond smile. 

I roll my eyes, giving her a dismissive grin. She laughs. 

"So yeah, that's Garroth, obviously, and that's Aaron and Aphmau." Dante points in the couple's general direction. 

"I'm Aphmau." Aaron says with a smirk on his lips. 

"Shut up," Aphmau whacks his arm, "no he's not."

"Figures." Laurance says, and the three of them sit down. 

"How did you make friends, again?" Aaron asks, as if the question has already been answered. 

"When I walked into class Dante recognised me and called me over." He explains. 

"Recognised?" Aphmau asks. "You know him?"

"He's my brother's ex." Dante says. "You guys remember! I said Gene had a boyfriend last year." 

"Oh yeah," I nod, remembering, "that was you?" 

Laurance smiles weakly. 

Gene is Dante's older half brother, and they both go to different schools so they don't see each other in the same classes all the time. They share the same mother but they're only ten months apart, so Gene is a senior, too. Gene had his first boyfriend last year, and the relationship lasted a good nine months, which makes Laurance gay. It's weird to imagine Laurance as Gene's boyfriend since they're so unalike (from what I've gathered, at least), but I presume that's what happened. Apparently Laurance was the one to cut it off, and Dante has told me that Gene has been in a lot of trouble with his school for giving Laurance shit. I feel bad for him. 

"We have so much to learn about you;" Aphmau says, "when's your birthday?" 

I internally groan. Mother Aphmau adopts us all as her children and it's literally like being babied by an ant. 

"Aph is obsessed with birthdays." Aaron points out. 

Its true - she likes to go all out when it's someone's birthday. She likes to have time to prepare, and it's often one of the first questions she asks anyone she becomes friends with just so she can smother them. 

"Like, in a little over a week?" He answers. Oh God. That's not enough time to get to know someone. 

"What?" She demands. 

"January thirteenth." He adds. 

She puts her head in her lands and lays on the floor. "I have so much preparing to do."

"It's fine, I don't want anything." Laurance smiles. 

That's never something she lets slip by. She always lets people feel appreciated, which is a blessing and a curse if you're like me and don't like to be in the spotlight. 

I shake my head. 

"You shut your damn mouth!" She retaliates. "I need to learn everything about you within the next five days. It's going to be smalltalk central." 

"Sounds exciting." He grins. 

"She's like a fun sized friend machine." I elaborate. "It's terrifying." 

Aphmau isn't quite at the five foot mark yet, just maybe an inch off, so all of us like to make fun of her for it. Especially since her boyfriend is literally a giant, standing at six foot four. It's pretty funny watching them try to hold hands because it looks like Aaron is helping a toddler across the street. 

"Shut up, shoulders!" She fires back at me. 

"Shoulders?" Laurance frowns. 

"I think that one's pretty obvious." I admit. 

I have pretty broad shoulders, and it's not like it's abnormal, but Aphmau wanted to find something to harmlessly make fun of me for just so she has a comeback for when I call her short. I've been told that it makes my hugs better, though. 

"I'm literally a witness of bullying everyday." Travis admits. "I'm scared to say anything incase they start calling me old for having white hair."

"But it's funny," I counter. 

"Can't argue with that logic." Dante admits. 

"Stop trying to distract me!" Aphmau responds. "Laurance! What are your hobbies?" 

"Please stop asking him weird questions, babe," Aaron, requests, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, "you'll scare him off." 

Laurance smiles. "I dance, I guess." 

"Oh, yeah, I forgot that you do." Dante says. "We haven't got a dancer friend yet! We're collecting them all!"

"I guess you have the build for it." Travis shrugs, ignoring our ill-humoured bluenette. 

"Uh, thanks?" Laurance acknowledges. 

Aphmau literally squeals. "Oh my God, show us!"

"No?" 

Dante and I burst out laughing. 

"God, you are a strange girl." Travis sighs. 

"Well, none of us dance!" She offers. 

"I bet he doesn't have a vagina either but he's not asking to see yours just because he doesn't have one!" Travis argues, and it makes us all laugh again. 

I sigh out of amusement. "I'm sorry; we're all really dysfunctional." 

"Eh, me too." He shrugs. 

That's fair enough. 

"I didn't even realise you were Hayden's son," I continue from my previous train of thought, "I, like, knew you were alive but that was about it."

He seems to find that funny. 

"You don't look much like him." Dante admits. 

"That's so rude, Dante!" Aphmau tells him. 

"I'm just curious!" He confesses. 

"I'm adopted." Laurance tells us bluntly. "That's probably why." 

I have a sudden moment of realisation. It makes sense now. "That's why your younger sister is heir instead of you." 

He smiles. 

"You're serious?" Travis asks. "That's wild."

"Well, it's pretty obvious." Laurance shrugs. 

I guess it is, Laurance is very different in complexion compared to his father, and the rest of his family, I suppose. I'm surprised I didn't make that connection sooner. 

"Do you not find it kind of strange?" Aaron asks. 

"They've been my family since I was a kid, so I don't remember my real parents." He tells us. 

"Do you think you'll ever meet them?" Aphmau inquires, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

"No." He shakes his head. 

"You don't want to?" I ask. 

"They're dead." He says. 

I cover my mouth with my hand. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." 

He smiles weakly. "I didn't really know them; I haven't gotten upset over it in awhile. It's fine."

"Way to go, Garroth, offending someone you just met." Dante tuts teasingly. 

"How was I supposed to know?" I demand. 

"It's fine, it's fine!" Laurance promises, twinkling. "I'm not offended!" 

I offer him a grin, half apology - half genuine. 

"What classes do you have next?" Travis asks. 

"Music." He answers.  

"Oh, so do Aaron, Travis and I." I say. "I'm guessing you're in our class."

Aaron looks kindly from me to our new friend. "What do you play?" 

"Guitar and my vocal chords, I guess." He smiles cheekily at his cheesy joke. 

"You can sing, too?" Aphmau bursts out with. "Oh my God!"

Aaron chuckles, pulling his girlfriend closer to him and pecking her on the top of her head. 

"Don't force him into singing." Dante begs.

"It's why I'm into musical theatre." Laurance explains. 

"I do theatre, too!" Travis declares, and the two of them low-five. 

"I already have so many ideas," Aphmau says, "you're gonna have a great birthday."

He chuckles, and it's silvery. "I'll try to have fun for your sake." 

"He's already learning." Dante tells me. I grin in response. 

"Oh, shut up, everyone," Aph groans, "I hate boys."

"I don't." Laurance smiles tentatively, as if watching for approval. 

"I was honestly waiting for you to make a gay joke." Dante admits, resting head back on the grass. 

Aphmau lets out one of her signature gasps. "Oh shit, yeah! That's so cute! Spill the tea on Gene."

"God, please don't." Dante begs. I have to agree. I've met Dante's brother, and I'd rather be ignorant to what he does with his boyfriends. I do not want to know. 

"Oh he was so hot," Laurance teases, "such a big dick." 

Dante kicks him in the thigh and he lets out a cry of laughter. Everyone laughs with him too. I like him already. 

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he promises, "he was nice. Really sweet until we broke up. I don't really think I was that harsh." 

"Why did you break up?" I ask curiously. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, pouting out his full lips while he thinks of what to say. "I just didn't really like him as much as I used to. I felt really trapped in a pattern and nothing we did was new anymore."

"You got bored?" Aaron suggests. 

"It sounds mean when you say it like that," he says, but I can tell he agrees, "I don't like routine, Gene does. He just got mad at me for it; that's why moving will be good for me, I think."

I nod. I suppose excitement is always something to want in a relationship. If you're doing the same thing with a person every single day, things are bound to get boring. I don't blame him. 

"That's fair enough." Aaron admits. 

He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe I just lost feelings." 

Things are quiet for approximately two seconds, before Dante asks me if we had Chemistry homework. 

I think for a moment, before I slap my hand to my forehead upon remembering the worksheet still in my bedroom from the winter break that I just couldn't be bothered to do. "Shit."

"You're screwed." Travis tells us. "How do you even get a detention on the first day back?"

"Okay," Dante says, pretending not to hear Travis's rhetorical question, "what is it? Can we do it now?"

"Fuck that." I say. "Improvise?" 

"Sounds good." Dante says. We're never ones to care much about getting in trouble over homework. 

"I'd be peeing my pants if I were you." Aphmau admits. "How are you so calm?"

"No reason to rush it now." I state. 

"He has a point," Laurance admits, "I wouldn't do it at this time." 

The bell rings for our last couple of lessons, and Aaron, Travis and I lug Laurance to our music class so we can show him where to go. 

Our music teacher introduces him to the work we're following, and he comes back over and sits down with us, dumping his bag on the floor. 

"I've already done classical this year," he sighs, "I've gotta do it again."

"Yeah, me too." I admit, feeling his pain. As much as one might enjoy the music, playing the songs over and over makes you hate them and yourself a little bit. 

Laurance is good at playing both electric and acoustic guitar. The four of us manage to scrape together the beginnings of our songs with me on piano, Aaron on cello and Travis on drums. We're all learning completely different things, but Travis and I like to play a stupid game where we see if we can get both of our songs to sound good together. 

Aaron also plays guitar, and I play the piano, violin and I'm a beginner at the flute. Music has always been a huge part of my life and I find that playing instruments comes really naturally to me. 

My next class with Dante happens to be Chemistry, and the both of us are rewarded with a detention to make up for the homework we 'forgot' to do. It's not a long one, though, only twenty minutes. 

After that class, it's homeroom. My teacher gives me a quick scold about doing my homework, but other than that she leaves me alone. I sit at my desk by myself, some other senior a couple seats away after getting a detention, too. 

I still haven't been caught with my headphones in, though, and I don't know how I've managed that. I pull up the sleeves of my long shirt, sighing. I'd honestly rather be doing my homework right now. Would keep me entertained for thirty four seconds at most. 

About five minutes into my detention, I'm staring out of the class window in boredom. I have two different moods: having the attention span of a fruit fly, or never wanting to do anything ever. It's never different. Today, I feel like a patience-lacking insect. My favourite kind of insect. 

It just so happens that Laurance walks past my class on his way out, and he spots me and gives me an amused grin. I roll my eyes at him and he chuckles to himself and waves as he walks off. 

I'm kind of glad Dante took him in. It's nice to have a new friend and I feel like he's going to be a good one. Sometimes change is for the better. 

My teacher dismisses me at the end of my detention and I walk to my car, flipping off Dante as I see him coming out of his own detention. He returns the gesture. We're very charming. 

Sometimes we carpool, but Dante was running late this morning so we drove separately. I don't mind. 

The ride home in my car is filled with my music as I watch the world go past when I drive. I find driving calming, especially when I'm by myself, because it gives me time to think while I keep my hands busy. It's similar when I play an instrument, honestly. 

I arrive at my house and dump my bag in the hall, giving my mother a call to let her know I'm home. 

"Hi, sweetie!" She replies from the kitchen, and so I walk down the hall to great her. 

She's sat at the kitchen table, a wine glass in hand as she scrolls through her phone. 

I don't look much like my mum. She has quite an elfish face, and she's petite and small. I am very much my dad, tall, the same hair, same face. The only thing I have in common with her is my softer, more delicate features, while my father bears a sharp jaw and cheekbones. 

She looks up at me and smiles. "How was school?" 

I shrug. "The same, pretty much." 

"Have you got any homework?" Her smile is still unnervingly bright. 

"Not for the rest of the week, no." I say. 

She hums. "Your brothers are already home; I'll call you down for dinner once it's ready." 

"Thanks." I reply, and she giggles as I turn back down the hall. 

She's acting very odd, but I pretend it's nothing important. Like I don't already know. 

I head into the bathroom to take out my contact lenses. In the four years I've been at my school, my friends have probably only seen me in my glasses in real life maybe five times because I'm a stereotypical teenager that doesn't want to look like a nerd. 

I don't really know why I don't let people see me in them; I just think they make me look dorky. I wear contacts because, despite them being the most inconvenient thing in the entire world, they make me look at least somewhat appealing. 

I put my glasses on and head back to my room so I can recover from the pain of having plastic in my eyes all day. I throw myself on my bed, checking my phone to find that Laurance has already been added to the group chat my friends and I are in (which includes people he hasn't even met yet). 

He's surprised to find out I wear glasses, so I send a semi-ugly picture of me wearing them just so he can laugh at me. He screenshots it. 

Cool. That's not embarrassing. 

Aphmau also screenshots it, which I was expecting. We have a folder on our phones of ugly pictures of each other that we've collected over the years. 

The conversation in the chat lasts a little over twenty minutes, and after that I can't be bothered to keep up with the notifications, so I busy myself with other things until I'm called back downstairs. 

Unusually, I'm the only one that's been summoned. 

Though it's not unusual. I just like to pretend her being like this is foreign to me. Like I'm not already used to it. 

I jog down the stairs to find my mother holding herself up against the counter, a devilish grin on her face. 

There's an empty wine bottle on the counter, and I quickly connect the dots. She's drunk. 

I'd acted like I didn't know this was coming. She's an alcoholic - it isn't her fault. I can't blame her because that would be immoral. That's all I'm allowing myself to think so it doesn't stem off into resentment. 

I don't want to stop loving my mum because she can't control herself. 

I have to act tactically. One rule I've established from the few times this has happened is that I can never make her feel provoked. I have to choose my words with impossible skill. 

"Come here, honey," she charms, "come give your momma a hug." 

It's a maze full of dead ends. No way of getting out of her line of collateral damage. I cannot deny that I'm not going to get out of this unharmed. 

I have to accept to postpone her wrath. I'm mistaken, however, because as soon as I lay hands on her I'm stricken across the cheek and I stumble backwards out of shock, hearing the metal frames of my glasses clatter against the kitchen tile. 

I can no longer see properly. 

My breath spikes. Inhalation has to occur manually now, because I know I'm not going to be able to think while the tingling from her hand fills up the entire left side of my face. The atmosphere closes in, and toxic panic seeps into my bloodstream from the contagious air she's breathing out. I choke up. 

Adrenaline does nothing to help me at this point. It's neither fight or flight, it's just standing here like an idiot. I have no way to react until she shoves me and I stumble against the counter, knocking the wine bottle with me as I drop. 

The bottle lands first and smashes almost exactly where I hit the floor. The glass pierces right into the back of my leg, and I have to hold my arm over my mouth because it fucking hurts. Fantastic. 

What the fuck? What the _fuck?_ Did I really just stab myself in the fucking leg?

Pain becomes an anaesthetic for emotion, and my unconscious instinct kicks in to just run; run and never look behind me. As much as I want to - as much as my head is doing a fruitful breakdance on the floor - I can't bring myself to do anything else but pull myself up and watch her run across the hall, hot tears flying down her cheeks as inevitable realisation hits her. 

I'm crying now, too. It's not an ugly cry because - you know - that's important, but it's painfully anxious. The kind of cry where barely noticeable tears lightly graze your skin, but it feels like the entire weight of the world presses down on your shoulders. It's not a cry of pain, either. It's more than that. 

My mother knows I'm a worrier. That's why she thinks taking my father's job will be difficult for me, but she knows I have to do it. That's mostly why she drinks. And because my dad is never home because of work. Maybe she takes it out on me because I'm at the root of all her problems. It's a buzz, apparently. Automatic numbness so she can pretend things worked out exactly like she wanted them to. 

I wouldn't know. After what she's done, I'm too scared to underage drink like many people my age would. Lucky me. 

She's not like this sober. When she's clear-headed, she's the nicest, most caring and loving mother anyone could ask for and I love her so much. When she's drunk, she's a mirage of remorse that hasn't kicked in yet. 

In my head, I've created two different versions of her so I can't associate the real her with the intoxicated her anymore. It makes it easier to pretend it isn't my mum that's hitting me and it's just another woman. The less complicated things are, the easier it is to pretend that things aren't worth worrying about. 

My siblings don't know that she hurts me. They've been verbally abused when she's drunk, but never hit. I intend to keep them out of it; I've learned how to be quiet when she harms me so they can't hear me scream in pain. I've become stoic. 

Luckily, my brothers haven't heard me and they're still in their rooms. They don't deserve to know what she does to me, because one of the only things I can fully admit to believe is that ignorance is bliss. 

I await my fate. It's always the same routine: she hits me, she cries about how sorry she is, I comfort her, she shouts at me, she hits me, she cries, I give up and leave her alone. Never any different and I fall for it every time. 

I can't just leave my mum to cry. Every time she does I have a little bit of hope that maybe that's it - she's realised what she's done - but the alcohol always takes over her and she forgets that she's sorry and she hurts me again. 

I pull the shard of glass out of my leg with a muffled sob. I can worry about it later. 

Cautiously entering the living room to which she fled while I was bearing through my pain, I find her sitting on the edge of the couch, her light brown hair falling over her shoulders as she cries into her hands. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. Hate? Pity? Indifference? All of it seems far too inappropriate. 

"Mum," I consolate, "it's okay, I'm fine." 

I close my eyes for a second to compose myself so it doesn't look like I'm hurting. She needs me more than I need me right now. 

Crouching down next to her, I rub my hand on her back. "It's okay." I promise. 

"I'm so sorry!" She cries, forcing me into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, honey, I'm such an awful mom." 

I tentatively hug her back, ignoring the fact that I might just agree. Only a little. "No you're not. It's fine, mum."

It's a few more minutes of solacing her, she tenses up and I act like I didn't notice. Faster than I can react, she shoves me away from her and I do a kind of half backwards roll out of shock and I am _out_ of there, sprinting out of the door, slamming it shut, and locking it from the outside so I'm safe. 

I let out a single breath. 

And then the moment is lost and the pain breaks the dam. 

I shove my fist in my mouth so I can scream into it out of sheer pain. It's moved all the way up my thigh and my pants now have a blood-stained hole in them where the glass happily poked its way through. I just needed time to release everything out in sound, and now that I've done it I realise that it didn't make much of a difference at all. 

Gracefully limping my way back into the kitchen, I finally intentionally lose my balance and allow myself to drop to the floor, far too out of breath to even process my surroundings at the moment. 

The aftermath is always hauntingly scarier. An empty room, glass on the floor, the stench of alcohol. Silence. It's almost apocalyptic. 

Grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard, I thank my lucky star that my glasses aren't broken. I slide them on to get a better look at the wound after pulling my pants down, and I find that it isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Inevitably, it'll scar, but I'll live to see another day. Thank God for that! 

I patch it up and leave myself to other things, like cleaning up the glass on my own. She'll be too hungover to do it tomorrow, and I don't want her cutting herself by accident. 

Once I'm done, I prepare myself to get the final thing out of the way: letting my brothers know. They'll need to eat, so I'll just order a takeout and let them guess by the closed living room door and my horrified expression. A complete lack of speech is the only thing I need to level my head. 

I order our food out of my own money. I can't be bothered to find our mum's phone, so I don't. It's much easier if I do things myself. 

Once I'm done, I abandon my phone on the floor, shivering too much to concentrate. Shock, probably. Maybe fatigue. Stress. Fear. 

I heave myself upwards and wash my face in the sink. No blood. Good. At least my wounds aren't in a noticeable area.  

My mind runs with a thousand thoughts a second, trying to come up with a list of priorities. Nothing's falling into place. Just things to do, covering it up, cleaning the mess, feeding my brothers, too much, too much. 

I force my tears back and pull myself away from the sink. It'll be okay. It always fixes itself. It'll be fine after a few days of awkwardness and pathetic apologies. 

I'm so infatuated with what literally just happened that I ignore the doorbell ringing. 

I forget it does so I don't bother to answer, but then a familiar voice is calling down the hallway. 

"Who ordered food?" My youngest brother, Vylad, calls. 

I forget to process that, too. 

And yeah, he also has a weird name. Luckily he's got the worst one instead of me, so it doesn't really bother me that much because I'm selfish. 

When he enters the kitchen and calls my name, I jump so hard I stumble on the counter and almost slip to the floor. I catch myself. 

"Did mom... order food?" His tone sinks at the last two words, the bag dangling in his hand. 

I got my accent from my early years, when my parents and I used to live elsewhere. We moved before my siblings learned to speak; it's become more of a habit to talk this way by now. Also people say it's attractive, so there's that too. 

Vylad is sixteen, two years younger than me. I think I'm closer to him than my other brother, Zane (who's seventeen and has the only normal name in the family), because we're farther apart in age. He looks like the male version of our mother and he's so creative, always painting, always making. He's sweet and chirpy - and most of the time that's real - but sometimes it's a façade to fool everyone into thinking he's okay. He's quick on his feet, wise and calm. 

His expression crumples, and I can tell he's realised already. He and I both have the talent of reading people, my other brother does not. 

"I'm sorry." I say, swallowing the shakiness. "She's out. I'm fine." 

He frowns for a fraction of a second. "Are you sure? What did she say to you?" 

"Nothing." I promise. I might believe it if I say it out loud. Then it's in the air and everything is always right when you say it aloud. Even if you're lying, someone's going to think it's true. 

"Living room?" He peers out of the kitchen and across the hall, seeing the closed door. 

He knows the drill. Leave her in the nearest room and no one goes in there until she comes out. 

I nod. 

He sighs, dumping the bag on the kitchen table. "Guess we gotta eat, then." 

It isn't like there's anything else we can do. 

He calls our other brother. 

When Zane enters the room, he immediately knows what's happened. He looks from the closed door to Vylad to me, and I nod my head, because the look on his face reads 'are you okay?'.

Zane is difficult to understand. As the middle child, I wouldn't necessarily say he sticks out. He has thick, messy black hair and sharp features, and no one can ever tell if his personality is soft or demeaning. I get on with him pretty well - we're both pretty introverted - but we're also quite different and I like that a lot. I think his dark hair makes him look mysterious and musky, which are favourable traits. He also has the natural curly hair that we both inherited from our father, but his best friend is his straighteners. I'm too lazy to do that every morning. 

I nod my head to the food Vylad is setting out on the table. "Dinner." 

"Right." He says, and he takes three plates out of the cupboard while I retrieve the cutlery. 

We eat in silence. Vylad is on his phone for most of it, his headphones plugged in. I might be the musical one in the family, but I know music is what keeps him so collected. 

I don't eat much. I never can after something like this. 

Once we're done, I go for a shower, thoroughly cleaning my face and hoping against hope that the water will give me sudden amnesia. Wash away my memories so I'm blank. Give me a do over. 

Alas, it does not.

When I return back to my room, everything feels dirty. It's tainted, and the only thing I have the energy to do is clean. I change my sheets and tidy my desk. I burn a candle to drown the smell. 

I still feel filthy. 

Eventually, I give up. With the pale moonlight casting a mocking spotlight on the emptiness of my carpet, I wish I was someone else and the clouds hanging over my eyes would clear. 

I let the night do what it wants to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, please consider buying me a coffee! ko-fi.com/epiphanistic


	2. laurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoy my writing, please consider buying me a coffee! ko-fi.com/epiphanistic

My car ride home isn't as nervous as the journey there. Today was almost exactly like I'd hoped it be, and I'm glad I've made friends this quickly. The first day at a new school wasn't half as bad as what people make it out to be like. 

I wasn't expecting the first person to speak to me intently to be Dante. We've only met a couple of times before today, and it seems like a such a small world to find that he's the first person I ran into. From there, he introduced me to all of his friends and I think they're all my kind of people - the same sense of humour and interests, while also having different hobbies. I like diverse groups, and I suppose I'm lucky to have found one. 

I was kind of hoping my birthday would go by unnoticed. It might be my eighteenth, but I don't really want to have people I barely know stress about making my birthday fun for me. But, if Aphmau asked me, there's not really much of a chance of getting out of it. 

And then there's Garroth, too. I guess I knew he and Dante had at least met from Dante's social media, but I had no idea they were as close as they are. I also think he's pretty hot, but there's always that one straight person you'd like to imagine a relationship happening with, but you know it never would. I'm okay with that. I want to stay single for a little while so I can settle back into myself after my breakup with Dante's older brother, Gene. Having a wild fantasy is a-okay with me for now. 

I have a bad habit of adopting some of my partners tendencies, to the point where I'd even picked up smoking for a few months when I was with Gene. It wasn't peer pressure or anything, I just felt like I should've started because we were a couple. I didn't like it, so I stopped. 

When I arrive home back in Meteli, I'm instantly greeted by my curious and worrisome mother. 

"How was it?" She asks, a flat expression either waiting for me to burst into tears or jump for joy. 

"Really good." I smile, and I can see the relief wash over her in a wave of consolation. 

"Oh, that's great! I was really worried you wouldn't make friends, or-"

"Mom," I grin, dropping my backpack on the floor, "it's okay! I actually made friends with Dante and his group." 

"Dante?" She asks. "As in Gene's brother?" 

She knows that Gene and I's history is a little rough around the edges, but I was quick to move it past me at the time. I wasn't in love with him, and - if I'm completely honest - I was the one to cut it off. By the time we officially broke up, I had already packed up my metaphorical boxes. I'd left him with the remains and I still feel kind of bad. 

"Yeah," I agree, "he's really nice." 

"Come on, tell me about it in the kitchen." She beckons me to follow her. 

The both of us talk about my first day over tea, which - by the way - is so much better than coffee. I check my phone while we talk, already finding that Aphmau has added me to a group chat. She seems so eager to me, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's nice to feel included, especially if I can gather important information such as the fact that Garroth wears glasses. I didn't really see that coming, but it's a dorky cute kind of thing. 

After mentioning all of my 'friends' names (if I even know them enough to call them that) my mom perks up with her own comment. "I've met Garroth before. Your dad is good friends with Garte." 

Garte is Garroth's father. My dad is Lord of Meteli, so I guess I have a connection with the Ro'meave's. 

"But how long ago did you meet him?" I ask. 

Her eyes flick to the ceiling as she thinks. "I think... three years ago?" 

"He probably looks different now than back then, mom, fifteen-year-olds don't look the same as eighteen-year-olds." I comment. 

"I was just saying that I've met him." She admits. "He's such a gentleman." 

I shrug. "I guess. I don't know him well enough yet."

"Did you see any cute boys?" She asks me. 

I groan. As soon as I came out to my parents at the end of sophomore year, my mom told me she already knew and that she's obsessed with it. Especially because my type is guys who are bigger and more masculine than me, so she can 'decide' whether they're good for me like she would with my younger sister. 

"Not really, mom. It's the first day. I've gotta find out who's gay first." I remind her, because I don't want her to get my hopes up. 

"Alright, but don't try too hard because you've got to focus this year." She tells me. She's obviously realised that I'm not really up for another Gene situation, so she's trying to convince me that it's okay if I don't have a boyfriend, which I already know. 

"You brought it up!" I argue. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." She says, sipping her tea. 

I ignore her. "What's for dinner?" 

"I was going to ask you about that," she confesses, "do you think you can help me?" 

I sigh. My family is notorious for bad cooking. Since I'm not related by blood, I'm the only one who actually knows how to cook and how to make it taste okay. My mom's cooking is just barely edible, so she always guilt trips me into helping her. I am such a momma's boy, and I think she exploits me for that. 

She ties her scarlet hair back in a ponytail as she stands up before washing her hands, gesturing for me to do the same but, you know, without the hair part. 

My mother looks very sweet and cute, which accurately reflects her personality. Most of the time, she tries to act my age and it doesn't really work out all that well, but she still isn't much like a typical mother. She's at an average height, with a very long and slender body. She's gorgeous. 

"What are we cooking?" I ask. 

"No idea," she replies, "I was hoping you could make something out of the stuff we already have before I go shopping after work tomorrow." 

My mom also works as an occasional teaching assistant at a preschool to pass the time. She loves kids. That's part of the reason why I was adopted by her and my dad as a toddler. 

"Okay," I nod, "helpful." 

She smiles at me weakly. "I'm useless."

I just grin back and start to rifle through the fridge to string together some sort of a meal for the four of us.

Honestly, I love my family a lot. We all get along so well and I actually don't mind spending time with them, because I am totally your typical teenager. 

My sister Cadenza arrives home half way into cooking after one of her extra-curriculars. Her orange copper hair is tied back into a high bun and she looks particularly out of breath, having probably jogged or walked back from school. 

"Hey, Cad," mom greets with one of my sister's varying nicknames, "how was softball practice?" 

That's one of the only sports my sister actually does. Usually, she's always making clothes, fashion designing and doing make up stuff that I'm too much of a boy to understand. She's a very girly girl and has a pretty face to match, with full lips and bright, smiling eyes. 

"Tough," she replies, pouting afterwards as she thinks, "we've got a small tournament coming up but our coach wants us to win really bad." 

"Well, I'm momma and I didn't raise a quitter." Mom tells her. I almost snort over the pan I'm keeping an eye on. 

Cadenza rolls her eyes with a hint of a smirk. "Whatever. What's for dinner?" 

I pull a look of consideration as I look at my pan. I'm just frying up some chicken with a bunch of spices and vegetables and hoping it turns out good. "Uh... a surprise?" 

"Oh," she mocks, "it sounds delicious." 

"You come and cook it then!" I fire. 

"Woah! Hold your horses, feisty." Mom intervenes. 

My sister slaps her hand to her forehead in embarrassment at our mother's remark. 

"We all know we don't want Cad cooking. The whole house would go up in flames." Mom comments. 

Cadenza scoffs. "Cut me some slack! You're not much better either!" 

"Oh, go have a shower," mom waves her off, "you're practically dripping."

My sister pulls a face behind our mother's back and I can't help but laugh as she walks off up the stairs. 

"Girls." My mom sighs. 

"You're a girl." I comment. 

"But teenage girls!" She explains, and that concludes her TED talk. 

I shake my head and continue cooking. 

My dad arrives home just as we're dishing up whatever the hell I made, alongside some instant rice that my mom almost managed to burn. You'd be surprised how much she lacks in knowledge of how to use a microwave. 

Dad smiles gratefully at my cooking, hanging his blazer on the banister of the stairs and running his fingers back through his gelled black hair. He - like my mom - still likes to act twenty. He definitely looks younger than he is, but not by that much. Sharing similar features with my sister, his wide cheekbones and sharp chin makes him look important and intelligent. 

"What would we do without you, bud?" He asks as the four of us sit down at the table to eat. 

"Starve, probably." Cadenza remarks. 

"Or get food poisoning." I add. 

"You two are both so rude," my mom shakes her head. Everyone knows it's probably true, though. 

"All kids fight with each other." My dad says, eating his dinner unprovoked. "It's an unspoken rule for siblings to fight all the time."

"Laurance is a dick muncher, though." Cadenza snarks. 

Mom puts her cutlery on her plate forcefully. "Cadenza!" 

I burst out laughing. "God, she's not wrong, though." 

My dad grins to himself at that. "How was your first day, Laurance?" 

"Oh, wow," I say sarcastically, "there were these huge fucking dinosaurs, and-"

"Language!" My mom warns. 

"Oh, come on, he's eighteen in a week. I'll allow it because it was funny." Dad says. 

"Okay, so if I slap you in the face, I can allow it because it's funny?" Mom retaliates. 

"Yes!" My sister says. 

"You know that's no what I meant, babe." Dad grins. 

As if on cue, Cadenza and I both gag onto the floor at the cheesy pet name. 

They both ignore us. 

"Anyway," dad continues, "was it good?"

"It was fine." I promise with a smile. 

"He made friends with Gene's brother." Mom points out. 

"Really?" Cadenza asks. 

"He's actually really nice." I admit. "He introduced me to his friends."

"He met Garroth Ro'meave." Mom adds. 

"Really?" My dad asks. "Did he recognise you?"

"No, but he knows who I am now." I explain. 

"Did you see any cute guys?" My sister asks. 

I sigh. "Jesus, yes, but I don't think any of them are gay. Why do you want to know?" 

"Because I want to ruin your chance with him." She explains. I wouldn't be surprised if she was telling the truth. 

I elbow her in the side and she hits me on the arm. 

"Alright, you two," my dad says, "stop being brats. It's none of your business, Cadenza,"

"I'm just teasing!" My sister defends herself poorly. 

"How would you like it if I kept teasing you about a boy at your school?" Dad asks. 

"It wouldn't bother me because all the boys at my school are literal trolls." She remarks matter-of-factly. That's mostly true. 

"Oh, literal trolls?" My mom asks. "There are literal male trolls running around your school?" 

I look at my sister. "Apparently there's a female one, too." 

My dad bursts out laughing. Cadenza nudges my arm with a stupid smile on her face. Mom just rolls her eyes, trying to suppress her smirk. 

"We've raised horrible children," our dad tells our mom, "I love it." 

"We?" My mom questions. "I'm the one trying to get them to shut up all the time. This is all you."

"Oh, please," dad says, "you're basically one of them." 

Mom just rolls her eyes, and the rest of dinner follows in a similar fashion. We all know we never mean it - it's just making fun - but we've always done it. 

After dinner, I bound up the stairs and into my bedroom, throwing myself on my bed. I turn on my laptop from the pillow next to me to find messages from my friends at my old school on skype, and my face lights up. I've only been going to a different school for a day and I already miss them. 

I never wanted to move, really. Things got really tough for me after Gene - since he didn't really want to leave me alone - so I decided to start fresh so I can concentrate on school and make senior year as good as it's supposed to be. I'm a big fan of change - I think it's really refreshing - so I feel like a new beginning would be healthy. 

My friends ask me to join their call, and I eagerly oblige. They're so much fun to be around, and it's going to be really weird not being around them five days a week. 

"Ah!" I scream as soon as I connect and their faces pop up on my screen. "I already miss you so much!"

"How do you think we feel?" One of my closest friends, Lucinda, asks. 

Lucinda was actually my last girlfriend before I realised I'm gay. She's helped me a lot with coming out and figuring out everything, and we're pretty much best friends at this point. She's sitting at her desk in a tank top, her dyed orange hair up in a ponytail. 

I pout at her remark. 

"It's so quiet without you," Fenrir adds. He's one of our newest friends; a nice, tall, guy with mouse-brown hair and a cute smile. He joined my old school at the beginning of the school year, and was really upset when I left. 

"What's it like there?" Another of my friends, Zenix, asks, his brown hair following his face as he speaks. "Is it cool?" 

I met Zenix through Gene. He's the sweetest, most clueless guy in the whole world, and he kind of migrated into our group with his girlfriend. 

"It's cool, actually," I admit, because the school campus is so pretty, "and you'll never fucking guess who I made friends with." 

"Please don't make us guess." Zenix's girlfriend - Sasha - moans in her monotone voice, leaning against her hand with her white hair falling messily in her face. 

"Tell us!" Lucinda urges, tapping her nails on her desk excitedly. "Is it someone we know?" 

"Gene's brother," I say, "Dante." 

A look of brief shock crosses most of my friend's faces. 

Hailey (bearing the same hair colour as Sasha) who hasn't yet spoken, lives for drama. I'm not surprised this lit up her face. "Oh God, really? Was he a jerk?" 

"No, no!" I promise. "He's the one who wanted to make friends with me. He introduced me to his group, too."

"That's a small world, huh?" Fenrir asks. 

"That's what I was thinking." I nod. 

"Did you see any cute boys?" Lucinda grins, which is always the topic to bring to attention since I've become single. It's not like I haven't been asked that a billion times already. 

"I don't know," I shrug, "all of Dante's friends are stupid pretty, though."

"What are they like?" Sasha asks me. 

"Really friendly." I confess. "Dante introduced me to Garroth Ro'meave, too. They're practically best friends." 

"What?" Hailey demands. "Really? I, like, love him." 

"His Instagram feed is so cute." Lucinda agrees. 

"He's hotter in real life." I comment.

Zenix offers an exaggerated frown. "Your new friends are already cooler than us."

"No they're not!" I assure him. "You guys are so fucking cool." 

"You're such a child, Zen." Sasha smiles. 

"Everyone knows we have to parent him." Lucinda adds, picking up a glass and swirling the contents. 

"Shut up!" He says, his cheeks flushing red. 

We do sometimes act like parents towards him. Even if he's one of the tallest, he's still the baby of the group. Everyone loves him to pieces. 

"Anyway," Fenrir says, "you have to call us all the time. We're not letting you get away that easily." 

"Damn it, I thought I finally escaped," I joke, "of course I'll still call you. I miss you all so much."

Reluctantly, I end the call once my friends have to leave. I really miss being at school with them; it makes me feel bad for leaving, even if I'm kind of already relieved that I don't have to see Gene again. 

I find that it's already late by the time we're done talking, so I ready myself for bed so I can sleep the day off. Melodramatically, I flop against my bed in dispair for a conscious decision I made by myself. I am such a drama queen (drama king?) and everyone knows it. 

In the morning, I awake at my usual time as normal. I head straight for the shower and spend awhile blow drying my hair and styling it under a headband just because I'm determined to keep my outfit game strong for the year. The weather in Phoenix Drop is typically colder than Meteli, so I opt for a sweater and I'm greeting my parents in the kitchen once I'm done. 

My mom hands me a mug of tea with a silent smile while she listens to my dad's low-down of his work for today. I smile back because, once again, she knows me all too well. I start on breakfast for all of us - a continuous part of my morning routine - and I crack four eggs in a pan, put some bread in the toaster and listen into my parents conversation while I wait for the breakfast to prepare. 

Shortly after, Cadenza enters the kitchen, tightening her hair tie. She takes pride in her looks (similar to me, but I'm more into clothes), and likes to look nice for school. She pulls a face at me so I flip her off, and our dad only rolls his eyes amusedly over his espresso cup. Luckily mom didn't notice, or I'd probably had been hit on the back of the head by now. 

Once breakfast is ready, I dish it up and hand it to each of my family members. We all like eating together as a group at the table, so we always meet together at the same time in the morning. 

My dad leaves once he finishes breakfast, which just leaves my mom, my sister and I. 

"I should be able to pick you up after school," mom tells my sister, "work finishes at about the same time as you today." 

"Cool," Cadenza says, collecting our plates to put in the sink, "I don't have anything to do after school today, anyway."

"Are you joining any clubs at your school, Laurance?" Mom asks me.

"I don't know," I shrug, "I have my first dance class today so if they have a club I'll probably go to that." 

"Do any of your friends do things you could join in with?" She asks

"I'm not sure, I'll ask," I admit, checking the time on my phone, "I should probably go if I wanna get there on time." 

Mom used to drive me to school most days, but now it's a bit too far away. It just means I have to leave early, which is a bit of a bummer. I don't really mind driving, though. 

"Alright, have a good day." She grins at me happily. 

"Bye." I smile, and Cadenza just scrunches her nose at me. I mirror her expression before I head out the door and into my car, grabbing my dance clothes on the way out. 

I'll confess that I did sing a long a bit to the music I played through the aux. I find it relaxing to do so, even if it is embarrassing. I probably wouldn't dare to do it in front of my new friends until I know them better. I couldn't bear the shame of showing them my mismatched music taste. 

When I arrive, all of my new friends are already there. Aphmau notices me first and quickly beckons me over with a kind smile. They're sat at an outside table, some still eating or sipping at drinks. 

"Hi." I greet as I sit at the chair sided with Travis, who's snacking on a bagel for breakfast. 

He salutes me as he eats and I chuckle as the rest welcome me back. 

Garroth is drinking a coffee, pulling a cute face at me over the lid. I pull one back and he smiles, which makes my stomach do a kind of triple backflip that would do the Olympic gymnastics team dirty. He's wearing a collared sweater and cuffed jeans, which makes him look kind of handsome. 

Everyone here has a really good fashion taste, so I definitely need to up my game. 

Garroth looks tired and a little vague, but I don't want to ask him about it. It's probably only a rough night's sleep, and everyone has those occasionally. 

When the bell rings for homeroom, I walk with him and Dante, since ours are all pretty close together. 

Dante seems as chipper as usual, with unstyled, messy blue hair today. Bed hair really suits him. He waves me off as I leave, and honestly I think it's sweet that he still wants to be friends with me, even if what happened with his brother was awkward. I wonder if he's told Gene he's friends with me. I hope not. 

The beginning of the school day runs slowly with boring, mandatory subjects. When I get to my dance class, it really picks up. The teacher invites me to the extra-curricular that occurs occasionally, and I graciously accept. My parents have got us to go to clubs since we were kids, so it's a huge part of school for me. It seems weird not to be in one. 

After the class, I set out to find my locker to drop off my dance kit. I find it in the corridor leading up to the cafeteria in the centre of the school, which is ridiculously convenient. 

"Hey!" Aphmau says from the other side of my locker door, making me jump into the fourth dimension. 

She has a girl I recognise from my dance class with her, with her dyed cotton-candy pink hair in cute, well-suiting space buns. I remember her being pretty good at dancing, and she's amazingly well dressed (seriously, can people in this school give me a break?). Her face reminds me of a doll, but in a sweet, pretty way. She looks flawless. 

"God," I say, my hand against my heart, "you almost scared the gay out of me." 

She grins at that. "This is Nana! Everyone calls her KC, though, she prefers it." 

KC offers me an adorable smile. "Hi! You're in my dance class!" 

"I know, I saw you. Where did your nickname come from?" I ask. 

"It's one of my online names," she tells me, "it stuck. Personally, I prefer it to my actual name. Makes me sound like a grandma, don't you think?" 

I nod, grinning a little, closing my locker. I platonically fall in love with sweet girls like her. My impulse to protect her from everything is hacking at my heartstrings. 

I'm very strange when it comes to friends. 

"Come on, let's go find the others." Aphmau says, and she takes my arm to lead me outside. 

When we meet with the rest of the group, Aaron greets his enthusiastic girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek. 

"Hey, KC." Dante acknowledges, sitting on the grass carelessly as the breeze drifts through his hair. 

She waves with a twinkle. 

I sit in between Aaron and Garroth and Aaron offers me the candy he's sharing, so I take to it kindly. He's way more lovable than I first took him for. I literally thought he was a wrestler when I first saw him. 

"Come with me to get food." Dante requests to Garroth. 

He sighs but reluctantly agrees, standing up and grimacing before hissing a: "Motherfucker."

"Are you okay?" Aphmau asks instantly. 

"Uh, yeah," he answers, checking the back of his thigh, "I slipped in the shower last night and bruised my leg." 

"You're so clumsy." She comments. 

"Come on, bud," Dante says, patting Garroth on the back as they head in the direction of the cafeteria. 

After I leave, I sift through the notifications on my phone. There's a voicemail, and when I go to listen to it I find that it's from my mom. Weird, I thought she was working. I place my phone to my ear to see what she had to say. 

"Hi, Laurance," she says, her voice still cheery but with an undertone of fatigue, "I was just calling to let you know that I had to come home from work early because I'm sick. I only threw up a bit but they had to send me back in case it's a virus so I don't infect the kids. I thought it would have been lunch hour about now, but I guess the times are different at your new school. Text me when you get this. I love you." 

And that's it. That was depressing. 

I'm surprised that she's sick - she's usually pretty healthy - and I just have to hope that it's not a virus or I didn't give her food poisoning from the dinner I made last night. I suppose if it was food poisoning or a virus I would be sick by now too, so maybe it's just her. Despite that, I still feel bad for her. Nausea is awful. She's never quite her chirpy self when she's ill. 

I shoot her back a quick reply that reads 'aw, im sorry. i hope u feel better soon. ly', and she replies shortly after with a kiss. I feel even worse now.

When Garroth and Dante return, they're in fits of giggles. Garroth is stumbling all over the place in laughter, obviously visually impaired due to the giggles, and Dante is trying desperately to hold it in. 

The hem of Garroth's shirt is stained orange. 

"What happened now?" Aphmau asks, almost motherly. I'm not at all surprised that she's the mother of the group. 

"Okay, okay, fuck," Dante says, trying not to laugh as he tells the story, "so I picked up a bottle of orange juice, right, and- and- the fucking lid must have not been on properly because I threw it in the air and the fucking entire bottle went everywhere all over the floor and now my shoes are trashed." 

I look to his white sneakers which, in fact, are now more of an orange colour. 

Garroth throws himself down next to me, laughing so much he falls back against the ground. It's the kind of laugh that you can't help but laugh back at because it's just so happy sounding. 

"It was so funny," he says, "it, like, happened in fucking slow-motion." 

"Why would you throw the bottle in the first place?" KC asks.

"It's a boy thing," Aphmau answers, "they throw everything they hold."

Garroth sits up and stops to catch his breath, but then he thinks about the situation again and resumes his laughing, falling onto my significantly smaller shoulder out of unawareness because of his laughter. 

"He has the giggles," Travis points out, leaning back on his hand as he sips at a juice box. 

His remark ultimately makes Garroth burst out into laughter again. 

"Fuck, it hurts," he says, gripping his sides as he leans into me, "oh my God. I can't breathe."

I instantly smile back, hoping the warmth in my face isn't as visible as I think it is. 

Eventually, he calms down, removing himself from my shoulder with a still amused: "Sorry." and I shake my head to dismiss his apology. 

"Fuck, that was funny." Dante says. 

"Whatever, you guys are dumb." Aphmau says. 

Everyone seems to agree. 

"Do any of you do clubs?" I ask, quickly remembering the conversation I had with my mom this morning. 

"I do soccer mostly. Sometimes Garroth comes if he can be bothered." Dante answers. 

"I join in with the theatre productions when they're on, but there's nothing at the moment." Travis tells me. 

"Aaron does the science club." Aphmau offers, "and I go to the book club occasionally. Why? Do you want to join some?" 

"I've already joined the dance club." I admit. 

"I go to that!" KC says. "It's really fun." 

I smile at that. I'm glad I'll know someone there. 

"I've been wanting to do a club with friends," I elaborate, "I did loads at my old school." 

"There used to be band practice," Garroth tells me, "I went to it a few times but it got cancelled." 

I nod. "I just wanted to know." 

After the school day is over, I drive back home, picking up some flowers on my way for my mom. When I arrive, she's in the living room, a blanket over her lap while she watches TV. She smiles wearily. 

"Hi," I say, pulling the bouquet out from behind my back, "I brought you flowers." 

He smile warms. "You're so sweet. Thank you, Laurance." 

I walk over and give them to her, and she hugs me tightly. 

"How are you feeling?" I ask. 

"Better," she admits honestly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "it was just after breakfast that I started feeling sick. It wasn't what you made, though." 

I smile a little at that. 

My mom gets a notification on her phone, and gasps out of what I can only assume is remembrance. "I was supposed to pick Cadenza up." 

"I'll do it," I say, already standing up, "I might see my friends, anyway." 

"Are you sure?" She asks. 

"It's fine, mom," I promise, making my way to the door, "I won't be long." 

"Thank you," She calls after me as I head back out the door and to my car. 

I'm kind of hoping I see my friends at my old school. It might be fun. 

Or it could make me miss them even more, but let's not think about that. As soon as I'm sitting in front of the wheel, the soundtrack to the Princess and the Frog is blasting and I am loving it. It's always been my favourite movie, so when I pull up outside my old school my sister isn't surprised to find me playing it. 

"You're such an idiot." She tells me as she dumps her bag under her feet. 

I swat her away, peering over the steering wheel to get a good look at some of the people leaving. 

"Who are you looking for?" She demands. 

"My friends, obviously." 

She scoffs. "Like you have any."

"I've made more at my new school, actually," I point out, and as soon as I spot Fenrir I bib my horn to get his attention. 

He looks up, and a look of delighted surprise fills his face. He runs over to my car window as I roll it down, pausing my music. 

"Laurance!" He says." What are you doing here?" 

"Picking up a rat, apparently," I nudge my elbow in Cadenza's direction, and while he laughs, she pulls a face and whacks my arm. 

"It literally feels like forever since I last saw you in person," he admits, "we all miss you."

"Aw, I really miss you, too." I confess truthfully. 

He smiles his charming, boxy smile. "Alright, I gotta run, my mom wants me to get groceries." 

"Say hi to everyone else for me!" I request, and he grins as he turns back around. 

"I'm pretty sure he used to like you." My sister tells me once my window is rolled up. 

"What?" I ask. "No way." 

I press play on my music and shoot Cadenza a warning glare so she doesn't think about changing the track. I don't want to have to be charged with driving recklessly from arguing and murdering my sister at the same time. That is not something she should put past me. 

Once again, I drive home belting out the lyrics - much to my sister's disgust; she tends not to appreciate music as much as I may. 

When we arrive, I can already tell that my dad has returned by the soft melody of a piano coming from the living room. He must have come home early due to mom's condition, and his playing always makes her feel better. 

He's the one who got me into music and signed me up for lessons to play the guitar. He and my mom love when we play together. 

The key's artificial, delicate sound fills up the room sweetly, and my dad only looks over his shoulder with a warm smile when he senses our presence, and mom just holds our arms out for the both of us to sit next to her. She feels incredibly cosy, and I'd like to think that it's as good as I can get with a family, even if they're not biologically mine. 

Sometimes it's better to appreciate things. I could have ended up with a terrible family, and I'm so glad I didn't. I don't think I'd be who I am if it wasn't for them, even if I might have been better off with my real parents.


	3. garroth

The week wasn't as agonisingly slow as I first anticipated. In fact, it was quite the opposite. 

Things never seem to stop bouncing between studying (or, at least, trying to), going to school and going to sleep. There hasn't been a relaxation period - no set time for someone to tell me to lay down for a few hours - and now I'm left without a way to coherently organise my thoughts. 

My mother knows what she did. She can remember parts of it, and when she asked me to fill in the blanks I told her no and went back to my room. What's the point in giving her another reason to feel bad? I already forgive her - I can't help it, really - so I'd rather make her feel better about herself than have to deal with it for longer. 

That doesn't make it any less awkward, though. She can't go two seconds without apologising and I can't bear to look her in the eye anymore. 

It'll pass. I'll get over it. 

Laurance's birthday grew closer and closer, and now it's actually here. I'm actually kind of excited; I need an event to get my mind off things and give me a break from stuff I wish wasn't reality. The impending occasion has been something my friends and I have spoken about recently, so I'm more than glad to have something we can discuss days after it happens so I won't have to wallow in my own silence. 

My mum asks me what my day is holding, possibly out of obligation or curiosity, and - honestly - I can't help but grin over my regular morning cup of coffee because birthdays are always a big thing in our friendship group. A happy experience - it's never anything less than good fun. 

"It's my friend's birthday," I tell her, sipping at my warm beverage, "you remember I told you I'm friends with Laurance Zvahl." 

"It's his birthday?" She asks, chopping up some fruit to accompany her breakfast. I never usually eat in the morning; it's the caffeine that keeps me going. 

"Yeah, we're going out after school for it." I say, watching the steam from my coffee cup evaporate into the air. 

"Oh, I remember you telling me now," she scrapes her waste into the bin, "you bought food for that, didn't you?" 

Aphmau each put us in charge of one thing for the small get together for him. She assigned me with food duty since I'm the only one who isn't stubborn and will actually buy branded foods. She specifically instructed me that most of what I buy has to be what Laurance especially likes, but I know very little of his favourite foods. That took several educated guesses. 

We're not getting him presents because he told us that it isn't fair because we haven't known him for long enough, and he said he really hates receiving gifts anyway. Collectively, we all only got him a pair of shoes and a sweater he said he thought was cute because we felt really bad about not getting him anything, even if we're organising the get together. 

Yesterday night, I went to the store with Aphmau to buy food for the next day. We split up the load between us so one of us wouldn't have lots of food to bring this evening. 

I agree. "Yeah, that's what Aph and I did last night."

"So you won't be home for dinner?" She questions. 

I shake my head. "I'll just be home to change and get the food and I'll be going." 

"Where are you off to?" 

Questions. Worrisome mum. Like mother, like child, I suppose. At least she has the decency to care enough. 

"The park." I answer. "There won't be many people there at night."

"How long are you staying for?" 

"God!" I say. "How many more things are you going to ask me?" 

She cracks a grin. "I'm just making sure I know where you are and when to expect you."

_So she doesn't get drunk_ , I think, but that's perhaps a little too harsh. 

I attempt to match her smile, though I doubt it reciprocates. "I don't know, mum, the latest is probably ten." 

"Be home before midnight," she instructs, "you still have school tomorrow."

"I'm not a kid, mum. I don't need a bedtime." I remind her. 

"You may be eighteen, but you're still in school. When it's spring break you can stay out as long as you like." 

"It's January." I sigh. Spring break doesn't even seem like it's going to come around at this point anymore. We're only around two weeks into the semester and I'm already ready for time away from school. 

"I guess you'll have to wait then," she offers me a cheeky smirk, "it would have been smarter to go at the weekend." 

"We wanted to do it today," I tell her, "besides, we're meeting at four. I don't think we'll be back that late, anyway." 

"Enjoy yourself, Garroth. You have good friends." 

What's that supposed to mean? God, I'm such a worrier. 

"I didn't say I wasn't going to have fun." I admit.  

She shrugs effortlessly and continues with her task, as if I'm not pondering on her statement. 

My brain is filled with puzzles as I allow my coffee to warm my hands. It's like I've been handed a map but it doesn't quite line up. Maybe I'm trying way too hard to decipher something that perhaps has no ulterior meaning. 

I don't like that. Everything seems to be riddled with skepticism. It's not going to happen for a while. I should know that. 

Before I can process it, my mug is drained. I place it by the sink blankly, unaware that I'd been so lost in a maze of subconscious pondering. My clock predicts my departure, and I'm quick to leave so I can get some music past my mind. 

It's not that I love my mum any less. I don't. It's always been different for a few days afterwards. Never spoken about. I don't think I could without having another episode. The pain that still seeps through the back of my thigh is enough - I don't need a conversation to accompany it. It's barely just healed over. 

My own mind is drowned by a typhoon of melody. For a few moments, my head feels new as my phone is plugged into my aux. When I'm dragged back to reality, I wish music wasn't as much as a nervous habit as I'd like to admit. It seems like a lifeline to me, but it's more or less of a drug. 

I drive to school with my tracks blasting. My fret is instantly challenged with the comforting thought of seeing a new eighteen-year-old Laurance, since we've become pretty okay friends in the short time that we've known each other, along with everyone else in the group. If a good distraction is the easy way out, I'm sure as hell going to take it. Beats facing my problems head on. 

When I arrive, I plug my phone into a pair of headphones to continue with my stress relief. I'm the first one to arrive, but I made that decision unconsciously. Maybe it was to get out of the house; maybe I just drove quickly. I'll pretend it's the latter. 

I sit down at a bench and pull out my phone, only to receive a sudden reminder that came a little too late. I haven't put contacts in, which means that I'm still wearing my glasses. I am the stupidest person alive - to find myself so distracted that I forget something that's such a huge part of my routine. I know why I'm so distracted, but why is what my mum did bugging me so much? And why didn't she mention it to me? Normally she likes it when I wear my glasses. 

Perhaps she's as inattentive as I am. We're going to go insane. 

For the time being, I push my experience to the back of my head. Normally, I wouldn't care for my mother's drunken mistakes, but ever since last week, it's all that's been on my mind. Hers too, I think. 

Possibly (and hopefully), we're both pondering on it so much because we've had enough. This could be the last straw, and I'm really praying that it is. I just don't understand how I could have forgotten to put contacts in; it's such a common routine for me, but I suppose I have no choice but to deal with it for now. 

I don't have much of a chance to contemplate it nevertheless, because Dante arrives and makes me jump out of my own skin. 

"Hey," he grins, his arm on my shoulder, "you zoned out or something."

"Jesus fuck, Dante," I say, my heart pounding, and he laughs, "I just lost ten years of my life."

He sits down opposite me, smug with himself. "You have your glasses on, man." 

"No!" I gasp sarcastically, despite the fact that I didn't even notice until a few moments ago. "Really?"

"Ha ha. How come?" He asks. 

"Forgot to take them off, honestly." I admit, not bothering to continue with my sassy façade. 

"They suit you, though," he reaches across to tap the side of the frame, which only makes me pull an expression of weirded-out confusion as he does so, "I don't know why you don't like them."

"I just think they make me look all dorky and shit." I tell him. I shrug. Maybe I should wear them more. They give me less of a headache. 

When he rolls his eyes, it's lacklustre. "You're literally terrified of change."

Oh, here we go again. Why are people so confrontational?

"I'm not terrified of change!" I kind of lie, not particularly feeling up to admitting my insecurities, "I've always had glasses. I can't see without them." 

"You know what I mean." He raises an expecting eyebrow. 

I blink at him blankly. "I do?" 

I really don't, because I am stupid. 

"You get used to something and you don't want to change it." He explains. 

"What's the point in changing something if it's already fine?" I ask, hoping he doesn't take it for a rhetorical question. 

He just smiles dismissively. Helpful. 

Our conversation is inconveniently interrupted when a familiar, honey-like voice is greeting us. 

"Hey!" The infamous birthday boy calls, and Dante and I both avert our attention towards him. 

"Hi!" Dante greets back, holding his arm out for a charming hug. "Happy birthday, dude." 

Laurance giggles, accepting the hug graciously. "Thanks."

He turns to me, and I follow in my friend's actions and offer out an embrace as well. "Happy birthday." I say as he squeezes me lightly, and when he pulls away his smile is a little brighter, almost as if he's dimly glowing. His hug was very comforting, which is unexpected for someone with a smaller frame.

"Thanks," he says, bouncing on his shoes a little bit, "you're wearing your glasses!" 

"I know, I forgot to take them off." I sigh; I suppose I'll be getting a lot of that today. I don't know why it's such a big deal. 

"Well, consider it a birthday present!" He gives me another broad smile to which I can't help but return. "It feels weird being eighteen. I'm all grown up now." 

Dante chuckles lightly as we sit down again. "Not by much, man." 

"I'm still older than you," Laurance protests, "that vouches for something." 

All Dante does is give him a stupid smirk as he pulls his backpack onto his lap to rifle through it for something. 

"So how was it at home?" I ask. I know it can be weird when you turn eighteen with your family. My mum was so emotional. She told me that I made her feel old by growing up so quickly. That - as I told her - is not my fault. 

"Oh, my mom literally cried." He explains, fiddling with the sleeve of his oversized red crewneck sweater that he's tucked into his jeans. The colour makes his skin look a little darker, and it's a really good look. "She was all _'I can't believe you're an adult now. What am I going to do when you move out?'_ Kind of thing. I literally help her with everything and she got upset that I'm not all small anymore."

"Are you sure you're not still small?" Dante asks with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky grin, and all I can tell from his immediate recoil is that Laurance kicked him in the shin from under the table. "Ow!" 

I can't help but laugh a little bit. 

"So are you excited for tonight?" Dante asks the both of us, ignoring his pain and drumming both his palms on the table out of anticipation. "I'm buzzing." 

"Me too!" Laurance agrees. "I've never been out with you guys." 

"We get up to such stupid shit." I explain. "We always ends up with a new inside joke the next day." 

Personal favourite: Travis has a kink for bubblegum. Long story. 

"Ooh," he grins, "I'm excited to be involved in that." 

"I think last time Travis knocked that coffee on your lap." Dante reminisces. 

"Yeah," I say, "I looked like I shit myself." 

Laurance lets out another tinkering giggle. "That sounded funny." 

"You made him buy you a new pair of pants." Dante adds. 

"Because he ruined them!" I justify, silently mourning my ripped blue skinny jeans. Rest in peace. 

Laurance smiles through his laughter, and I know right then and there that he's going to be a good friend just on plain instinct. Or maybe it's still the stupidity. 

*

Lunch has come about quickly, and Aphmau has already practically pried my glasses off my head to wear them. She's obsessed, and they look massive on her tiny face. Honestly, I think it's kind of cute.

Her boyfriend apparently seems to think the same when he goes to kiss her, and I have to quickly snatch my frames back. 

"I don't want slobber on the lenses," I tease, and she does nothing but poke out her tongue before returning to kissing in which she continues to poke out her tongue. Gross. 

Both Travis and Laurance are yet to arrive, so I assume that they're still at their theatre class together. Dante, however, is rigorously attempting to throw popcorn in my mouth and actually launching it down my shirt at some points instead. At least it's funny when I pick them out from my top and throw them back at him to watch him cringe. The dickhead had it coming. 

The frosty air drifting past us makes me glad I've brought a jacket. It's getting colder everyday, and I'm really hoping that means it's going to snow soon. It always reminds me of home back in O'Khasis, where it could start snowing from October and wouldn't finish until April, so I could pelt my brothers mercilessly with snowballs for about seven months straight. That's always been what I've missed the most - the weather. The only bad part about it is that my glasses fog up when I step indoors, but that's just something to put up with. 

Travis and Laurance arrive together shortly, boasting about how entertaining their class was, knowing that the rest of us probably just had very boring lessons. I don't particularly mind, though, Laurance seems excited about the facilities and Travis has always had a passion for acting. It's such a good feeling to see someone's face light up when you ask about what they're interested in. 

For most of our break, the group discusses meeting times and Aaron decides it would be a good idea to pick Aphmau and I up since we're both on the way to the park. Graciously, I accept, knowing very well that I'll have to prepare myself for a car journey of third-wheeling. Oh well. Free ride. 

"You guys all better bring a fucking coat or a sweater or something because I swear to God I will steal my mom's sandal if you don't." Aphmau threatens, wagging her demeaning finger at us. 

I laugh. "Yes, mum." 

She gives me an angry pout which eventually develops into a joking grin. "Don't call me 'mum', you headass bitch." She warns. 

Her attempt to mock my accent makes me chuckle. "Alright, _mom_."

"You were, like, a billion times less attractive when you said that." She confesses, and we fall about laughing. 

After school, I'm way too excited to get home. I put on a slightly more upbeat playlist to contrast the dreariness I was bearing this morning, because tonight will - hopefully - wholly change my demoralising mindset for the better. Perhaps I'm building tonight up in my head to be better than it actually will, but I know that all I need to do to actually relax is spend some time with friends and get out of the house for a night. I need an elation. A break for once. 

When I arrive home, I have about forty five minutes until I'm supposed to be picked up. That's probably more than enough time. I greet my mother and my youngest brother, Vylad, in the kitchen before I head up to my room, tripping over the same brother's packages in the hall. 

"Vylad!" I yell back. "Stop leaving your shit on the floor!" 

I have the privilege of cursing in the house ever since my dad dropped a plate on the floor and exclaimed a word that made me demand my 'freedom of speech'. Mum only allowed it since I'm now a legal adult, although still in school. My siblings were not pleased. 

"They're my new paint brushes, you buttcheek!" Vylad cries. He and my other brother have since made the agreement to ironically use kid-friendly cusses, which annoys the hell out of our mother. That's probably why they do it; it really makes her cringe. "Don't break them, you actual oaf."

"Don't leave them in the middle of the floor then!" I retort. I have a tragic track record for being clumsy and forgetful, albeit I can't hold the blame if there's things on the ground just waiting to trip me up. That's asking for it. 

Vylad's an artist, constantly buying new supplies. I usually don't give a shit about it, but he has a huge tendency to leave messes everywhere. He's literally the only member of the family that won't clean up after himself. It's probably because he's the baby. 

But, getting back on track, the first thing I do when I get back upstairs is put my contacts in. I know it'll disappoint my friends, but the dorky, schoolboy look really isn't going to reflect the style I'm going for in my planned outfit. Boo hoo. 

As requested by Aphmau, I put on a windbreaker jacket over my long sleeve so she won't actually attempt murder in a park. I would not put it past her. She has tried. 

I spend my remaining leftover time laying on my bed on my phone until I'm summoned by my mum, who's already opened the door to greet one of my best friends. 

Aphmau smiles at me when she sees me, but continues with the conversation she's holding with my mother. 

"Your things are ready in the kitchen, sweetie." Mum tells me, and I grab what I need before sliding into the back of Aaron's jeep. 

I can feel the afternoon breeze through Aphmau's open window. We've planned to stay past the sunset to take pictures together, so by the time I get home dusk will be long gone. I love being out at night. 

We're the first to arrive. As quick as we can, we dump our bags on the floor and Aphmau makes a run for the swings, her short skirt following with her legs and her half-up half-down hair falling around her shoulders as she throws herself down on the swing. She has such a good style. 

Her face lights up in a brilliant smile. "Aaron, you big giant, come and push me."

Aaron is more than happy to oblige, taking the opportunity to push her way too hard, and all that can be heard for miles is shrieking and laughter. She swings her slightly platformed boots to keep her balance, and I can't help but crack a grin when she kicks her boyfriend's legs from behind, causing him to retreat in a mixture of laughter and pain. 

That was the end of that. 

It's actually Laurance that arrives next, dancing along jokingly to the music I'd starting playing not long ago as he approaches us. His mullet-length hair has been tousled back to expose his forehead, and his eyes beam with excitement. When he enters the park at the opposite side to which I'm sat, he waves at Aphmau from the swing and gives Aaron a hug as if they're old friends. 

He sees me and waves, jogging over to the bench I'm sat at to smile at me and hug me for the second time today. 

Based on that statistic and the other people I've seen him greet today, I can only assume that he's a very prominent hugger. Fitting, really. He reminds me of a koala bear. I don't know why. 

The last to arrive are Dante and Travis, and the night quickly kicks off. I can't remember a time I've laughed harder. 

We give Laurance his present and - as we predicted - he loves it. His cheeks flush with gratitude, thanking us for throwing a party despite the fact that we haven't known him for long. The moment is lost when Travis cracks an inappropriate joke, and Laurance replies by smacking him with one of his new shoes. We explode into giggles, and it feels as though I'm euphoric. An overstatement, probably, but I couldn't care less. 

After we've calmed down, Laurance and I talk all evening, and it's _so_ great. 

He has so many stories to tell, and even if it's just a normal experience, it's the most interesting thing in the world to me. He knows exactly how to recount his adventures in a way that's so enticing all you want to do is listen. 

I feel like we're growing really close, and I know I've only known him for a week and a bit more than a bit, but I already consider him a good friend. I have a good nose for keepers. 

At the end of the night - because we're all fucking children -  Aphmau forces us to raise our juice boxes in celebration for Laurance's eighteenth, but of course that ends in us squirting them all over each other and when we leave to go home, my hair is tinted a light pink and my hands are sticky with grape juice. 

It's still one of the best nights I've ever had. 

During my shower, my stomach fills with unannounced butterflies. I'm not quite sure why, but my heart is so giddy all I can do is smile.


	4. laurance

I'd like to think that I'm a little more than I seem. Raw is the only way to describe it - pouring myself into my movements so it's impossible to be anything other than who I am. 

I wouldn't say dance is my calling; that would be both overused and completely incorrect. It's more or less a hobby that stemmed into something more passionate. I run with it. It's not a distraction (I tend to use my current issues as a muse), but it's a way to express myself. To get it out of my system. 

The dance department is full of dreams. You can peek through the windows and it’s like opening a storybook. Entire classes dance in groups, trios, quartets, anything to show the visualities of music. 

Free styling has always been one of my favourite things to do in dance. You pick your poison and run with the melody. It's the closest I feel to being somewhere other than reality. My studio is small and empty, meant for soloists or duets, and I’d been sent away from my teacher with the task of choreographing a song to prove my worth. It’s contemporary, she told me, so my movements have to tell something. Create readable emotions. 

It’s a way to drain the water from the sink. 

My hair unattractively clings to the perspiration on my forehead, although I don't think I have the physical capability to care less. Freedom doesn't get much realer than this, because right now it's as if there's no laws to abide by and responsibility is only a word. 

After my finish at the end of the song, I collapse against the back wall, staring at myself in the mirrors as I sip at my water bottle. I’d taken mental notes of things that worked when I’d improvised and things that didn’t so I can begin to form a piece out of it, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m exhausted now. 

As soon as I'm done and out, I sigh against the leather headrest of my car. It's a billion workouts at once, but it's more than worth it. 

However, now I really wish my bed was beside me so I could lay in my sheets. I want nothing more than to sit on my ass for a couple hours. 

I'm quick to arrive home, but equally quick to be forbidden from my own bed until I shower. I told my mom that I don’t care if I stink but she wasn’t having it. 

I lay a towel at the head of my bed so I don't get my pillows damp with my hair once I'm done, and flop straight into the duvet, almost melting into the fabric like chocolate over a flame. 

My bed feels peculiarly empty, and I'm hit with another wave of sadness when I realise that I'm still single. I love cuddling, and I remember doing so with my ex after a similar dance session. I'm not saying I miss him, but I miss the feeling of having a boy to hug and maybe kiss. I have a cluster of first world problems. 

Fuck it. I don't care - I'm sad and lonely. And kind of horny. A gay teenage boy should not have to suffer through that! 

Now I'm thinking about boys. And - shit, no, not happening. I am not fantasising about spooning with a very appropriately sculpted boy I met a week or two ago. Nope. I may be lonely, but I'm not that desperate. 

Okay, maybe I am. 

This seems like all I am and I hate it. I do not want to be some toy that lives and breathes to have a boyfriend and nothing else. It's a petty crush, and I need me time to focus on whether I actually want what I think I want or whether I'm just wanting it for the sake of wanting it. 

Want. There's such a big difference between that and need, but I can't tell which one I'm feeling to the point in which my sentences don't even make sense anymore. 

Oh God, I just admitted it's a crush, didn't I? That makes it so much more real. I'm praying I don't become the person I hate. 

Why did it happen so quickly? I'm such a hopeless romantic, and it's disgusting. I'm far too quick to announce my feelings and maybe instead of jumping over the entire marathon, I should at least try to take it a step at a time. 

No more, I harshly demand, and my guitar is in my grip to sing the idea out of my brain. 

*

Homework. Math. Just screams fun from the rooftops and flies it from a banner on an aeroplane, doesn't it? 

I'm so bored. 

Dad brought up a salad for dinner, and I'm eating it literally leaf by leaf to pass the time as I rest my legs atop my desk and write approximately one number per minute, drumming my pen annoyingly to the beat of my music. I'm in sweats, currently wanting to die a little bit, wishing that either homework wasn't an obligatory action or that math just didn't exist in general. 

I think it's safe to say I'm hoping for the latter just a little bit more. 

I want to go to fucking bed, my internal monologue harshly warns, but I'm fully aware that the homework is due tomorrow. So, naturally, I take light years to complete it. 

I work until I'm finished enough to at least get a seventy five percent (eighty if I'm lucky) and promptly fall asleep not long after my head hits the pillow. It's heaven. 

In the morning I hate my life and my alarm. I slam it off, cursing it and its entire lineage. Six am is such an ungodly hour. How is it even legal to wake up at this time? At least the weekend is only a day away. 

When I eventually heave myself out of bed, the spammed messages from my new friends in our group chat quickly inform me that the temperature in Phoenix Drop has dropped significantly. 

Fantastic. I hate the cold. 

The only remotely good part is the fashion and that's why I prefer Meteli's renowned heat - it's so much more comforting to be wallowing in natural warmth than freezing to death elsewhere. 

I grumpily pull on a huge knitted sweater (actually made by my sister for my birthday) and sulk down the stairs in my black skinny jeans and my still-kind-of-uncomfortable DM boots. 

"You hear about the weather?" My mom asks, noticing my particularly long face as soon as I'm in the kitchen. 

I nod, pouting. 

"You'll be fine," she promises, "there aren't any warnings for snow."

"Snow?" I ask. That puts a whole different perspective on it. I've never actually seen snow apart from in movies, so maybe it would be okay if it did snow a bit. But my mom just told me that's out of the question. I work myself up sometimes. 

"Yes, Laurance, I just told you it wasn't happening." She looks at me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

"That's the only good part about cold!" I whine, taking a seat at the dining table. 

"You haven't even seen it, how do you know it's good?" She asks. 

I shrug. "I just don't like cold." 

"Oh, boo hoo." My sister dramatically cries. 

"Fuck off." I fire, not in the mood. I’m grumpy. 

"God, Laurance, don't say that to your sister. Stop throwing a tantrum." My mum warns, placing a cup of tea and a slice of toast in front of me and kissing the top of my head in an odd juxtaposition. 

I throw my head back and let out an audible groan. I'm still aching from dance, and shivering out in the cold really isn't going to do much better for me. 

"What's his problem?" My dad asks as he enters the kitchen and my mom puts breakfast in front of my sister. 

"He's mopey because it's cold in Phoenix Drop." Mom explains. 

"Oh, grow up." My dad says. "It's been worse in my visits to O'Khasis." 

"I don't wanna be cold all day." I sigh, totally indifferent to what he just said. 

"You're such a toddler." My sister remarks, so I just pull a face.

My mom shakes her head in disapproval. "You have to finish your breakfast up quickly so you can leave, anyway. Go on, hurry up." 

I pout to myself but reluctantly oblige, heading to my car once I'm finished to go and suffer through the bad weather like the veteran I am. 

As soon as I arrive at school, I'm already sniffling from the temperature. I put my hands under my armpits for warmth as I walk to my friends table, my breath visible in the air. 

"It got cold quick, huh?" Aphmau asks me as I sit down. 

I nod. 

"I guess you're not used to it," Aaron points out, "it's always boiling in Meteli." 

"I'm not built for cold." I add with a pouty smile. 

Dante's the next to arrive, apologising for being a little later than usual because his car fogged up so much he had to wait a while to drive. 

And then, finally, Travis and Garroth arrive, both seeming unfazed by the weather and completely ordinary. They look smug. 

"How are they not cold?" I ask. 

"Oh, they're basically immune." Aphmau tells me. 

"Travis spent a lot of time snowboarding as a kid and Garroth pretty much grew up in O'Khasis. They complain about heat much more." Dante elaborates. 

Both of them sit down and Garroth grins at me cheekily. "Cold, huh?" He asks, bearing a devilish smile. 

"I'm fucking gonna get hypothermia." I say, knowing very well that the temperature isn't even close to being low enough for that. 

"Oh, please," he says, "I've been snowed in at home more times than you would think." 

I find it odd that he addresses O'Khasis as 'home', but I suppose he spent most of his childhood there growing up. 

"And I've been trapped inside because of merciless heat waves, so... checkmate." I try with a cheeky grin, and he smiles in return. Mission accomplished. 

Flirting? Maybe. Is it going to work? Probably not. Am I going to stop? No?

"Then I give you the right to tease me when it gets warmer. I'll be a puddle by then." He flashes me a charming, open smile. 

"Oh, whatever." Aphmau dismisses. "It's just temperature. Stop making a big deal!"

I can feel my eyes crease into a happy smile. I've always smiled with my eyes. 

"It's just nice to have something to talk about!" Garroth defends. "What else happens? Go to school, eat, shit, sleep." 

"...Socrates is shook." Aphmau remarks. 

Garroth opens his mouth to reply, but the bell cuts him off. He stands up. "You're lucky. Literally saved by the bell." 

I bite my lip. I'm smiling too hard. 

As per usual, I walk to homeroom with Dante and Garroth. I always feel at home around Dante. I don't know if it's because I knew him before I moved, but he has a very calming aura. He always carries around a sense of security, as if he knows that everything will be okay as long as you have friends with you. 

When they both leave to their respective classrooms, I turn a corner only to run into a cascade of delicately positioned bubblegum curls. 

KC gasps, shocked to bump into me, but steps back a bit and arranges the books in her arms when she realises who I am. "Laurance! Gosh, you scared me!"

She blows a puff of air out of her doll lips, offering me a porcelain smile. She must be eastern - possibly mixed race, although different to me - and she's entirely graceful. You'd never find a stray hair on her head. 

"KC!" I say, my hair falling over my eyes messily. I suddenly realise that we are very different, but I can't help but adore her. I almost want to put her in a glass case so she doesn't get damaged. I've never met someone so innocent. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

She dismisses my apology. "Oh, I don't care, silly!" She even speaks like an angel. It's ridiculous. She was sent down from the heavens. "Just got a little dazed. I saw you at dance club last night! You took a solo room, right? You should join a group! I would offer for you to join with me, but it's all girls." 

"It's fine, KC," I promise with a sincere smile, "I actually like solo dancing. I might join a group in time for finals so it's less scary, but I'm just settling in for now."

Her smile is understanding. "That's fair. Joining a group is scary enough. Someone might ask you to join after they see your class performance, depending on if they think you're good."

"Well, let's hope I am, then." I reply, a hint of tease dancing on my tongue. 

She giggles, her manicured hand covering her mouth a little bit. "See you later, Laurance."

"Bye, KC." I bid farewell as I step past her towards my homeroom door. She's adorable. I definitely want her as a friend. 

In my homeroom, I throw myself down at my usual seat to which the seniors invited me when I first joined, but I've never really spoken to them much apart from asking about homework if they're in my classes. 

My first period is actually a free one. Seniors seem to have them a bit more for studying, and in my old school I'd usually spend my time to run lines or practice a dance routine, but since I haven't been here long enough to need to do that, I take myself to the library to do some homework. My headphones are blasting upbeat tunes in my ears, and I'm surprised that no one around me can hear it. 

The library is cosier than I visioned. There's a couple of computers tucked against the side, a spiral staircase just behind the front desk, and rows of bookshelves near the back, accompanied with chairs layered in blankets for reading. It's easily relaxing. I head to the desks at the back, pulling out my textbook and a notebook to get working. 

After a few minutes, I get a tap on the shoulder and I look (very far) up to see Aaron looking back with a sunshine smile. 

I pull out my headphone, smiling back. 

"Free period too?" He asks. I nod. "This seat taken?" 

"Go ahead." I say, but I'm speaking the smile this time. 

He sits down next to me, and I leave a headphone out for his sake. 

"You got much work to do?" He asks, pulling out his things from his bag. 

"Catch up work, mostly." I explain. "It's all pretty easy. What about you?"

"A bit. It's a lot of work to be smart." He says with a teasing smile. 

I laugh. "I wouldn't know." 

He exhales in amusement, and we work in silence for a few moments. 

Whether is awkward or not, I'm unsure. 

"What's it like dating Aphmau?" I ask, genuinely curious. I wonder if she's a lot of work or just fun. 

A smile creeps at his lips. "I like her a lot. I think I dial her down a bit and she dials me up." 

"That's so cute." I say. "How long have you been together?" 

He thinks for a moment. "It was our six month anniversary in December."

"That's sweet." I say. 

He just smiles fondly, looking down at his textbook to see what kind of work he has to do. 

*

Our break doesn't seem to last long after my class with Dante and Garroth. It feels like we all sat down, had a debate about the best ramen noodle flavour, and went back to class all in under a minute. 

My next lesson is Physics (which I'm inherently failing) with Aphmau and Travis. It isn't always too bad - they both entertain me - but it's always so boring. That double period drags on for pretty much an entire day, and then I endure a class with Aaron until lunch. 

At first, there's just four of us. Garroth and Aphmau haven't arrived yet, but not long later Travis points out the pair approaching the group, Aphmau's skirt flying in the wind. The cold breeze both exposes Garroth's forehead with swept back hair and blinds Aphmau with her equally curly but significantly longer locks. They both take their seats with us, babbling to each other about the homework that was set just that previous lesson. 

Lunch isn't much of anything apart from Aaron completing his science homework - with Aphmau watching fondly over his shoulder - and the rest of us dealing food out like drugs to one another. There was a squabble about who out of the three others got a peanut butter cup, but I'm allergic to nuts so I wouldn't know or care. 

Eventually, at the end of lunch, I have music, and since I already know what I'm supposed to learn, I follow everyone into a more private practice room and listen to Garroth play all three of his known instruments. He's an amazing pianist; I almost fell of my chair when he turned around to shout at Travis for exploding his eardrums with his chaotic drumming, while his fingers continued to play as if on autopilot. It sounds beautiful. I could listen to it all day. 

Travis is wild on the drums. It follows in suit with his bubbly, energetic personality, and he's incredibly animated when he plays. He throws himself over the beat, always emerging drenched in sweat with a huge grin on his face. 

I also watched Aaron play the cello, which makes a lot of sense. Considering his gigantic frame and the resonance of his voice, I'm inclined to believe they were made for each other. 

So, to conclude, the practice room was a mess of contrasting sounds - especially when I bring out an electric guitar to really contrast the soft classical and the rock vibes. None of it coordinates. That's why it's so fun. 

After that, it's the last period and the day is already over. Homeroom was nothing but a second long to me, and when I'm walking to my car I have to rub my arms in a pathetic attempt to warm myself up. 

I slide into the seat, letting out a unnecessary and over exaggerated sigh before I start on my way home, the AC in my car blowing artificially hot air in my face to make me slightly less cold. It does not work. 

The long car journey gets old before I even reach Meteli. I miss being mopey in my bed. 

When I do get home, I immediately change into sweats before I get a snack. I decide to do some homework so I can free up my evening, but not long after my mom texts me to let me know that she left dinner in the fridge for me to cook and she'll help me when she gets back from work. 

That's fair enough. Cooking is therapeutic, anyway. I appreciate the satisfaction of being able to enjoy what I've made, and there's aren't really any rules to it if you know what you're doing. Experimentation is the best part of anything. 

So, eventually, both of my parents arrive and the four of us eat what I made. I catch up with my parents just to spend the time and I go to bed early so I don't die in the morning due to apparent self-induced insomnia. How riveting of me. 

And I am so, so sad? Lonely? Annoying? All three? Probably all three. It just seems like there's something missing - something not quite right - and it's dreadfully irritating. 

But it's only because I really do like him; there's no going back now. I can't deny it anymore. The only thing I can do is regret falling too fast. It'll just make more damage when I eventually land on the floor. 

There's no possible way I could hit the ground running. 

I don't have a fucking chance.


	5. garroth

I can't get out of bed on the first day of the weekend. Weights hold me down by the limbs. 

My mum comes to wake me up by the time noon rolls around to give me a fruit salad, probably out of pity or the feeling of obligation. She laughs at me when I sit up as she draws the curtains, eyes half open and curls sticking to my forehead while an irritated groan escapes my lips. It's too bright. She thinks it's funny that my eyes are burning. 

Mum is better. I know she won't drink for a while. There's always warning signs like a constant, blaring alarm, but I'm not feeling the skepticism at the moment. Her relapse can't be prevented - it doesn't work that way - but at least it'll be a little while before it happens again. 

It's been over two weeks since the accident, and by now, I don't think about it as often as I used to. This is the quiet period - she's often blasé and I just have to wait until I act anxious enough to get her worked up again. It's not really the calm before the storm so much as the calm between two storms, because as one settles down into taboo, another is simmering just on the horizon. The longer the break is, the more worried I get that it's coming and it'll be worse than the last. 

The scar on the underside of my thigh will never fade. It's one of the ones you can tell is always going to haunt you - the stupid memory clinging to you like metal to a magnet. I don't have many other scars from actual drunken attacks or accidents, but since this has been the most serious injury yet, it'll always be a milestone. A rite of passage in abuse. 

Nothing like the scars on the inside of my right bicep, lost in the time of constant pain and tucked away to be ignored. I don't do that anymore. I lost my reason for it. There isn't a point in making them for myself if I'm just going to get them anyway. 

My mother kisses my forehead and tells me to eat as she leaves, so I do, watching a show on my laptop as it rests on my duvet-covered legs. I'm eating the fruit like cereal, trying to adjust my eyes to the warm yellow hues of the morning (or afternoon) sun. 

I am tired. School always drains me, or at least more so than usual. My sleep habits have always been odd, and having to get up early after sleeping late isn't good for my energy levels. By the weekend I usually spend a day in bed at least, just to make up for what I lacked in the previous five. 

As I eat the fruit salad, I think about my appreciation for my mother. She does make things like this for me a lot without asking (although, since it's winter, the store-bought fruit I'm eating is nowhere near as good as what she grows in her garden in the summer) and nobody is completely perfect, so I can't blame her for having an issue. Some people's flaws are just... a little more complicated to put up with. 

But I make do. 

At this point, I'm pretty sure my brothers haven't thought about it at all in at least a week. I wonder if it's simpler just to suffer through verbal abuse - if they get over it quicker - because I suppose the healing of your wound is a constant reminder when it becomes physical. Zane and Vylad weren't there for any of it and probably just thought I was being shouted at, so I doubt it's crossed them recently. That's what I'm aiming for: to keep them as out of it as possible. This is my fault, so I should face the punishment. 

My mum is the stay-at-home kind. She couldn't find a job she wanted to do despite having a talent for art, which is probably where Vylad's knack comes from. She's told us many times that she's wanted to have kids since _she_ was a kid, and she thinks it's the best job for her and that we're the best part of her life, as well as my dad. 

Sometimes I question what she tells us. It seems more like a way to dampen the reality of the situation to me. 

I think that she runs out of things to do when it's not spring or summer and she can't garden. There's only so many errands you can do everyday, so my theory is that she has too much time to think, psyches herself up to the point of a breakdown, and drinks to get rid of the feeling. 

I don't want to think about it anymore. I make my best attempt to focus on my show, eating quietly in the warmth of my comfortable bed with nothing that should be concerning, but still is nonetheless. 

I never see it coming. I know around the time she's going to do it, but the exact date is always a mystery. It jumps around the corner and forces my silence when I don't expect it. I'm an _idiot._ So stupid. I'm surprised people even talk to me at all. 

Once I'm done with my brunch, I decide I should at least get up once so I know my legs still work. I pull on a shirt, not bothering with pants - I'll just face getting booed at by my siblings when I walk in in my underwear - and go downstairs to put my bowl in the kitchen sink. 

As expected, at least one of my brothers is sat at the dining table in the kitchen. 

Vylad lets out a complaint at my attire, but I'm honestly too tired to even process what he's saying to me. 

I rub my left eye, squinting out of the other. "What?" I ask, a hoarse tone accompanying my voice. 

"Put some pants on, maybe?" He offers. 

"Die, maybe?" I return. Obviously, I have a deep emotional bond with my siblings. 

"Oh, go away," he retorts, and I chuckle at his child-friendly version of 'fuck off', "go upstairs before she gets here."

"She?" I ask. Oh right, Vylad's girlfriend that I immediately forgot the name of as soon as he told me. I literally thought she was the same girl as his ex, but I was told that they broke up months ago. "Yeah, I'm sure she'll love seeing me in my underwear. Maybe I should just whip my dick out so she can really enjoy my company."

My mum chooses to walk in at very inappropriate timing. "Why would you say something like that?" She asks, absolutely disgusted before looking up to the sky to question a theoretical God. "Why did I have to have boys?" 

I don't reply to her rhetorical question and instead get a granola bar from the cupboard, because mostly only eating one meal every day really does get you hungry sometimes. It's not that I don't want to eat - I'm too nauseous to eat breakfast in the morning and I'm too lazy to buy lunch at school - but I'm really forgetful and eating snacks isn't really the top priority for me when there's a billion other things going on at once. 

I throw the wrapper in the trash and see the obvious empty alcohol bottles sitting abandoned at the bottom of the bin. Great. My mum didn't even recycle what's fueling her addiction. I pretend not to notice. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I'm only half in the room. My mind is somewhere else, lacking the feeling of purpose. Having nothing to keep my hands busy is unnerving, though it doesn't feel right to do anything in particular. I feel like if I did try to do something it wouldn't be good enough. I don't really know who I'm trying to impress, but the numbness of distant self-loathing makes me want to go awol. 

I know it's my mother that's doing this to me, whether that's intentional or not. I don't feel up to my own impossible standards because of what she does, and that makes me want to get rid of everything so I'm not likeable at all. 

By the time I've realised I'm virtually not present, I go back upstairs to my bedroom - passing my brother Zane on the way, who I swear at and get hit by - and sit at my desk, staring (but not really, I'm kind of not looking at anything) blankly at my laptop screen. I should call my dad. Or text, at least. Maybe he doesn't have to know what's happened, but he'll probably like to know that one of his children is thinking about him. 

He doesn't come home very often. He works really hard and I don't think I'm going to see him again in person for a couple of weeks. That's kind of my fault, though, so I can't really play victim when it's my father who works all day and comes home to an empty house. 

So I do text him, just to ask how he is, and then I set my phone down and scroll through my laptop without really stopping to read anything. 

It's blank words. Or, at least, a message without meaning. I need a purpose and  
I desperately lack one. 

The pointer of my mouse hovers undecided over the music app on my laptop, and, after a few moments of hesitation, I click on it. There's a few unfinished instrumentals in there, perhaps remnants if things that could be actual songs if I knew how to write lyrics or - you know - sing at all. I abandon them because there usually isn't much hope of me finding a way to complete them. 

I usually make music when I'm bored. I'd like to think it would be what I'd be attempting to pursue if I didn't already have a job laid out for me, because producing a track isn't only a pass-time, but it's also incredibly rewarding. Clicking on one of my most completed songs, I sit back and listen to it the entire way through, making mental notes of things that could be added. And once it's over, I record via my pretty decent microphone equipment that I bought maybe a year ago to keep myself entertained. 

I don't really know what the point of it is. I doubt I'm ever going to let people hear it, but sometimes it's more fulfilling to have a hobby no one is aware of. Secrecy is often more satisfying when there's no one else to judge you. 

I use my knowledge of the flute to play a melody that substitutes for a voice and lyrics. I'm getting pretty good at the instrument - I'm still a little rusty - and I definitely have the intention of learning to play other things too. I like the pride of hearing something that I made; it makes things just a little more worthwhile to me. 

Not long after I've spent about thirty minutes manually adjusting the notes on my flute that I recorded via the music software, my phone sets off its text tone because I never have it on vibrate over the weekends. I check the screen and - as I expected - it's a reply from my dad. 

It's a picture, actually, a selfie (gross, my dad is middle aged and he thinks it makes him seem younger) of him and some guy I briefly recognise as being important from somewhere. He must be having some kind of conference or meeting, but he's still grinning like crazy because that's just what he does. I want to cringe at it, but it's actually kind of sweet. The 'aw my parent is trying to be relatable and failing' kind of cute. 

I reply with a picture of me holding the flute just to humour him, and then he sends the guy in sunglasses emoji because my dad is a Cool Dude. I really do miss him. Both of my siblings are mother's boys, but I've definitely always been closer with my father. I don't think the reason for that is what it seems. 

I sit back on my desk chair after that, motivation slipping through my fingers. It's too much work to do the things I like, but I can't help but feel like I'm supposed to be doing something to fill the gap. 

Instead, I do nothing at all. 

*

Hours have passed between me attempting things and giving up, with an ache buzzing in the back of my head. It's really not boredom; it's rooted deeper than that, but all I know is that it hurts to concentrate. 

With time, the golden light pouring through my windows fades into an orange, and I drag myself downstairs with the scent of dinner filling the house. 

"What are you cooking?" I ask my mum as I walk into the kitchen, taking my glasses off for a second so I can push my messy hair back and out of the way of my forehead. 

"I'm trying to make chilli, come taste it to see if it's okay." She requests. 

I comply, exaggerating when I taste it just to make her giggle. I hesitate. "Make it spicier."

"Really?" She asks. 

"It's gonna end up melting our mouths." Zane - who I didn't even realise was in the room until now - comments. 

"I like spicy food." I justify, taking a seat opposite my brother at the dining table. "Where's Vylad, anyway?" 

"He's out for dinner with his girlfriend." Mum explains. 

"His _girlfriend._ " Zane mocks, looking down at his phone. I grin. 

"Don't be so horrible." My mum waves him off. "It's not like you have a girlfriend to go out with." 

I laugh at that. 

"You don't have one either!" Zane reminds me. 

"It wasn't directed at me." I smirk. 

"I'm talking to you too, Garroth." Mum says as she dishes up our dinner into bowls. "You need to find someone. You're getting old."

"I'm not that old!" I say. "I'm not looking for anyone at the moment. There aren't any girls I like." 

She brings our bowls over, placing them in front of us and kissing the top of my head. "I'm just teasing, sweetie."

"Yeah, you're way too old to be telling him that." Zane snarks. 

She waves her hand in his general direction, picking up her own bowl. "Don't remind me, you ungrateful child."

"Thanks." He taunts as mum takes her seat next to me. 

I grin, pulling my phone out of my sweatpants pocket to start replying to messages I didn't bother to answer earlier. 

"What are you doing tomorrow, Garroth?" My mum asks me, probably genuinely curious. 

"Sitting on my ass." I reply, not bothering to look up from my phone. 

"That's the dream." Zane says with his infamous sarcasm. 

Mum sighs. "Why don't you come grocery shopping with me?"

"Because that sounds like the worst idea ever." I admit. I would literally rather eat my own hair than have to endure hours of walking around a store and being forced to get things off the top of the shelves because she's too short. She has forced me to do it before and I got bored within the first five minutes. I really have the worst attention span. 

"Don't be so rude!" She whacks my arm. "It's not my favourite thing in the world to do either but I still have to feed you!" 

"You're so violent." I say. "I'm gonna lose all my fucking brain cells."

"I know you father and I gave you permission to curse in the house but that doesn't mean you have to use that rule at every possible moment." She reminds me. 

"I'm making up for eighteen years of deprivation." I say matter-of-factly. 

"As will I when I'm eighteen." Zane tells us. 

"Oh, _as will I._ " I mock. We never pass up the opportunity to make fun of each other. 

"Shut the heck up." Zane says, kicking my shin from under the table, and I laugh. I find it hysterical when my brothers keep their swears family friendly. 

"Will you stop using words like that?" Mum recoils. "They sound horrible."

"Let me curse and maybe I will." Zane says. 

My mother just rolls her eyes. "Eat your dinner." 

The rest of our meal is eaten in a spoken silence. I would attempt to start a conversation if I had anything interesting to say, but my life has been pretty boring recently. Things seem to be on repeat and - even if the regularity is relaxing - I need something new. 

It seems to be a common theme of this weekend, and it's an itch I just can't seem to shake. 

So, instead of finding something unexplored, I go back upstairs and into my bed after I'm done with dinner. I don't really see a point in starting something at nine-thirty, so I look at my phone for a few hours before I'm tired enough to sleep through the night. 

In the morning, I wake up early with motivation drilling at my head. I want to go for a run. I always find it fulfilling, and it might give me a chance to come up with something worth doing. I do not know why I want to go jogging - I just do - and that's good enough for me, so off I go to frolic down the streets at fuck-off-o'clock in the morning. 

Once I'm ready to go, I find my feet pounding to the beat of the music through my headphones, and the refreshing morning air gives me enough energy to go for a couple of blocks. I'm not out of breath when I arrive back home, but my thighs are aching and I'm sweating like hell. I jump in the shower as soon as I'm inside, letting the warm water soothe the strain in my muscles. I'm not particularly sure why I decided that now - about eight am on a Sunday - was the perfect time for a run, but I don't really want to question it so I'm not going to. Sometimes it's better not to analyse everything. Sometimes. 

After that, I sit at my desk for a while. My homework stares at me in a pile of untidy papers and, although I have nothing else to do today, I do not want to do it. I actually contemplate not doing it at all and sitting through the detentions (because twenty minutes to an hour everyday isn't _that_ bad), but I know that eventually they're going to have to call my mum and she's going to ask me why I'm not doing my homework and I'm not going to have a valid answer and then she's going to worry about me and - and I just... I don't want to deal with that right now. I don't want to give her a reason to drink. I know I do anyway, but I'd rather not make it that obvious. 

It would probably somehow get out to the public that I'd get detentions everyday anyway, and then they'd all start thinking I'm some trouble-maker that just doesn't give a fuck and not someone who just physically can't bring themselves to concentrate. People don't work on logic or the truth; they work on rumours and pessimism, so I don't have a choice but to succumb to appropriate mannerisms for the sake of my father's career and my future one. Maybe occasionally it's okay to pretend to be perfect, but on days like this, it's mentally exhausting. Being viewed as someone I wish I was is never going to be satisfying enough. 

I have to pull myself out of my own fucking identity crisis for my education, and I force myself to get my work done so I can do nothing again. The motivation I'd woken up with has fallen through the hourglass, so it's self-discipline and anxiety that gets my homework finished. At around lunchtime, my mother comes into my room to check on me (and at this point I'm halfway through an English essay, so she's actually saved me from that hell for a few minutes) and she, surprisingly, has an omelette made for me. I thank her, because I honestly wasn't expecting it, and she leaves to go and give my brother's their own lunches. 

I use this as an opportunity to take a break and have a conversation with Dante for a while, and he's throwing water balloons at his brother (in January, I have no clue why), and then a girl from my English class that always aces the homework so I can ask her for help, and then finally Travis, who's procrastinating his homework as well. I find the twenty minutes of social interaction while I eat enough for me, and I quickly flick through people's stories on Snapchat before I get back to work. 

I always find Aphmau's story entertaining, since she's almost constantly with Aaron and she must be the most annoying girlfriend in the entire world when all she does is scare him and tease him for the sake of a video. I'm honestly not sure how he puts up with her. Laurance's story was also pretty funny, but that's because he was with his sister and I think she's hilarious. He was sat on the floor blow drying his hair (bearing a completely unbothered expression) with what I can only assume is Cadenza's hairdryer by the way she was screaming over the noise. The last thing I saw in the video was her running up to him and kicking him over, so that gives me a bit of insight to their wonderful relationship. Siblings are never nice to each other, though. 

Finishing my homework feels like completing a marathon, and I have to sit back in my desk for a moment to give myself time to not think at all. 

After a while, I pull myself into bed to do the same thing, and end up napping for a few hours. When it's time, I eat dinner with my family (minus my dad, of course) and prepare for school tomorrow right before heading to bed with an almost contented sigh. 

In the morning, I can feel the cold before my alarm wakes me up. It seeps through the closed windows and chills my skin, and when I eventually have to get up I wrap up in a sweater and boots to last me for the day. There's coffee already waiting for me when I'm downstairs, with my mother smiling knowingly at me. God, I love her. She saves me sometimes. 

Dante texts me asking if I want a ride, and I accept if it means I don't have to worry about driving. Forcing myself through smalltalk with my mum, I bask in the warmth of my drink before the dying horn of my best friend's car is calling for me. I leave my mug on the kitchen counter for my mum to wash up later (because I truly believe she has nothing better to do) and scoop up my backpack on the way out of the door. 

My blue-haired buddy is grinning at me with undeniable mischief when I slide into the passenger seat. 

"What have you done?" I sigh. "You haven't put anything on my seat, have you?"

"It's too fucking early to pull something like that, but shit, I wish I had." He tells me as I buckle my seatbelt so he can pull out of my driveway. 

"What is it, then?" I ask. I'm convinced he's ready to pull some sort of prank on me and I do not for a second doubt that he wouldn’t do something like that. 

"Can't a guy be happy?" He asks, looking at the road ahead. "Jesus Christ, can't I smile, you old grump?"

My lips flicker upwards a bit. "Not if you look like that. You look guilty, but like you're proud of it." 

"Damn right I would be if I did do anything, but I didn't, so stop being suspicious, asshole." He flashes me a smirk. 

"Don't call me an asshole when I'm genuinely fearing for my life." I warn jokingly. 

He rolls his eyes, swiftly pulling into the senior parking lot and scanning for a parking spot. We're a little later than we usually are, but that just means less time in the cold. I don't particularly mind it much, but I don't enjoy standing in it either. We go to greet our friends after he parks (and I tease him for having to repeat it three times to get the car straight enough) and it's just Travis and Laurance. Aaron and Aphmau are obviously yet to arrive. 

They both smile when they see us, and Travis immediately jumps into telling us about whatever him and his dad did together at the weekend. Since it's just the two of them at home and his father runs a roofing business, Travis often helps out or does some sort of bonding activity with him all the time. It's kind of adorable, actually. 

The couple arrive after Travis finishes his story, and I decide to avert my attention elsewhere while I wait for the bell to ring. I turn to Laurance, who happens to be sat next to me as he scrolls through his phone. Perhaps I should try to be nice today. 

"I like your jacket." I compliment honestly. It's denim and too big on him, sporting patches that makes it look like a hand-me-down. The good kind, though. The kind of one you can't wait someone to grow out of so you can have it. 

"Yeah, where'd you get it?" Aphmau asks, joining in.  

"It was my dad's," he smiles brightly, fiddling with one of the sleeves, "my real one. My family gave me a lot of his clothes when he died thinking I would grow into them, but obviously not by much." 

"That's so sweet." She says. "It's a cute jacket."

I agree. "Do you know what he looked like?"

He nods. "I have pictures. I got my colour from my mom, so he was white, and we have, like, the same hair and eye colours. He played football and stuff so he was a lot taller than I am, but yeah..."

"That's so cool. I bet he was hot." Aphmau jokes. 

He giggles, and it's really cute on him. 

The conversation is halted by the bell, so he, Dante and I walk to our home rooms together to officially get the day going. 

I wouldn't say I'd rather be in bed, but I'd rather not be forced into something so detrimental. School will be over soon, though, and maybe things can be better when I go back to my hometown.


	6. laurance

I discover quickly that settling is easy enough if you know how to wriggle your way into a certain mould. It's been a few weeks at my new school and it almost doesn't seem foreign anymore. The fact that I already seem to have a social stance is making things more than easier for me. 

My friendship group is popular, I'd realised, but that's obvious since we have Garroth and people are nosy about him. It really surprised me to find out that Aphmau and Aaron are generally a well-known couple (there's already predictions of them winning prom king and queen at the end of the year), but none of us make an effort to be liked, we just are. 

None of them go to class parties, either. I found that strange, since in my old school you had to go or you'd be left out of reminiscent conversations and you wouldn't easily be remembered. We're not elite, so to say, but we like to keep things intimate; a small gathering of people that can have just as much fun without underage drinking. I can admit that it's relaxing to not either throw up or watch your friend throw up, but it still confuses me how secluded and lazy we all are. 

It comes with labels a lot, but every high school has that sort of thing. We're nice people, so people don't hate us, but I am already known as the gay guy of the group and I know from experience that being singled out like that is not fun. 

Although nothing, Dante assured me, can be worse than being called 'Garroth's best friend with the weird hair', which Travis them argued back with 'guy with the old man hair'. For some reason, students do not like to refer to other people by their names. I was told that there aren't really any homophobes in this school, but if there were, Aphmau said she would beat them up for me. I know her well enough at this point not to underestimate her. 

When she and KC walk with me to dance class, I finally feel fully accepted. KC got bangs cut in over the weekend (which looks amazing with her pink hair) and now we're discussing whether Aph should cut her hair short. I'm all for being impulsive, so I said she should go for it, but she told me she'd have to have a big enough mental breakdown to be able to do it. She is hysterical. 

While KC and I turn to the changing rooms, she heads off to her Literature class. My rehearsals go as planned, and I get to sit in a run through of KC and the rest of her group's performance, and it's as perfect as anticipated. Once they watch my choreography for constructive criticism, she tells me we need to do a duet in the future, and I couldn't think of anything better. I need expertise from someone like her. 

Math class is afterwards, which I have with Garroth. He tries to convince me that I smell after dance by pulling teasing faces and pinching his nose, and I think it's so dorky. It's not even flirty fake laughing when I giggle all lesson. 

At lunch, Aphmau and Aaron bicker over the best Kool-Aid flavour and the rest of us laugh at them with an enviable lack of pity. We do not try to solve the dispute (although everyone knows the blue one is the best) and instead listen to what it's like to grow up in a house with two merciless brothers - an autobiography by Garroth Ro'meave. He leaves no detail to imagination when he recounts the story of one of them leaving the door unlocked and him walking in on their bare ass in the shower. Travis and I, lacking brothers, found it hilarious, but Dante just shuddered and wished nothing as awful would ever happen to him. 

Of course, I told him his brother has a nice ass to get on his nerves. Having dated your friend's brother comes with endless perks. 

After the petty argument is over and the red flavour is crowned (immorally) as the champion, Aphmau invites a friend to sit with us. 

"You haven't met Katelyn yet, right?" She asks me, tapping away at her phone. 

I shake my head. "Who's that?" 

"Travis's ex," Aaron answers. 

"Oh," I look to him excitedly, leaning forward to touch my toes because my legs are short and I can do that, "is there a backstory?"

"Nope." Travis stretches his arms out in front of him with linked fingers nonchalantly. "Just didn't work out. Her personality is too strong for me." 

I pout hyperbolically. "Boo you, I like gossip."

"Sorry my relationship ended mutually and on good terms," he says sarcastically. 

"That's okay," I tease, and he shakes his  head with a grin. 

Behind Aaron, Dante and Garroth, a tall girl with luxuriously frizzy powder-blue hair approaches us carefully, a finger to her lips as she scares all three of them in one attempt. 

This is Katelyn, I presume, by the way they curse and hit her shins in annoyance

She laughs, her eyes creasing as she takes her beating without a flinch. "Oh my God, triple kill."

"We all bow down to you, my queen," Aphmau says sarcastically, scooching over to allow room for her friend.  

Katelyn graciously accepts her seat, snickering at Aaron with a shocked hand still on his heart. "As you should," she says. She makes brief eye contact with me, and then looks back to Aphmau, "another new friend already?" 

Aphmau giggles. "Right, this is Laurance." 

"You're the gay guy!" Katelyn exclaims. 

"That's me," I agree, hugging my knees. I knew that is what I'm now known for. 

"Katelyn's bi," Aphmau explains. 

"Oh," I realise, then leaning forward, "high five!" And we follow through. 

"What brings you here, anyway?" Travis asks, leaning back on his hands and crossing his legs at the ankles. 

"Teony has this study group and I'm not about studying in freaking January," she tells him. 

"Teony?" I ask. 

"My girlfriend!" She says. "I don't know how she puts up with me, but I love her so that counts." 

"Sounds like someone I know." Aaron says, so Aphmau playfully shoves his shoulder with her own. 

"So, shortstack, what's up with you?" Katelyn asks me ignoring the couple. 

I gasp melodramatically as everyone laughs. "Shortstack? How dare you?"

"How tall are you?" 

"Five foot nine," I answer. 

"I'm five eleven," she grins, "so in conclusion, you are short and I am right." 

"Nice to meet you too," I say sarcastically, which pulls a laugh out of her. 

Aphmau, while in on the joke, expresses her offence audibly to her friend. "I'll have you know that, because of my height, I am now closer to your legs and I can and will knock them out from right under you." 

"I'm not intimidated at all," Katelyn admits truthfully, "in all honesty, short people are just cute."

I giggle at that, which does nothing to denounce her point. 

"Actually," Garroth chimes in, "chihuahua's are the scariest dogs and we all know it." 

"They have evil in their souls," Dante adds. 

"I wholeheartedly agree," Katelyn confesses, "all short people are evil but that doesn't mean they intimidate me." 

"That is something someone who doesn't fear God would say," Travis tells her, and all she does is grin in return. 

I can understand why Travis thinks her personality is too strong for him. She isn't afraid to say things with her chest, a trait I doubt Travis holds with his desire to remain in a peaceful life. She has got to have caused some nasty arguments in her lifetime. 

"Who says I didn't already kill him?" She asks, and Dante and Garroth - with the collective sense of humour of a twelve-year-old - find that as the epitome of comedy and fall about laughing. 

"I didn't even realise Laurance was that small until now," Dante admits, laughter still in his voice. 

"I wear tall shoes," I explain, kicking my slightly platformed boot in the air with my leg, "plus, anyone looks tall next to Aphmau."

"Hey!" She protests, giggling. 

Dante agrees with me. "Touché," he nods, "but we all know what being small means. Small dick alert!"

"What does it matter if I have a small dick or not if I take it up the ass?" I counter, which earns joking hollers and then a round of laughter. 

Due to my impeccable logic, I leave Dante speechless. 

"Plus, Dante, Laurance could have some monster dick. Like a fucking foot long penis or something and that's why he's so short," Garroth offers. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I flirt, and he grins and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. Score! "...Besides, he can just ask his brother."

"Stop!" Dante demands, and I can't help but snicker. 

"I'm confused," Katelyn admits. 

"Laurance used to date Dante's brother and he's non-stop teasing him about the fact that they were sex rabbits," Aphmau explains. 

"We didn't have sex all the time," I say, looking down at the grass and then widening my eyes to make it seem like I'm lying. 

She chuckles. "Mhm, and I don't have a vagina, either."

I laugh. "I'm not kidding."

"Okay, sweetie," she says, so I playfully kick her leg and then she acts as if she's going to pounce of me, which makes me jump and my hand flies over my mouth when I yelp, giggling. 

"How could he be a sex addict when he just did that?" Travis asks. "Look at how cute that was."

"Eat my ass," I retort. 

Travis ignores that and so does everyone else by the way another topic of conversation is brought up, and I embarrass myself by pretending like I know what I'm talking about. I try too hard. 

Dante, Aaron and Aphmau go to get food closer to the end of our break, and upon their return, Dante seems particularly excited about an idea he's had. 

"Everyone come to my house this weekend," he demands, intentionally dropping his sandwich packet on the ground, "no excuses."

"Why?" Travis asks indignantly, more than used to his random demands by now. 

"Because I've wanted to play Mario Kart since, like, five minutes ago so we're doing that now," he announces. 

I gasp. "I love that game! My sister and I basically cause world war three over it."

"I've gotta opt out. I have a date with Teony," Katelyn jokingly boast, which I have to admit makes me chuckle. 

"I'm really bad at that and you know it," Garroth reminds his best friend, "I don't play video games." 

"Someone's gotta come last," Dante jokes. 

Garroth sighs. 

"You're just upset because you know I'll beat you," Aphmau gloats.

"Yeah, that's exactly why I'm upset. I thought I just said that," Garroth says, and the rest of us find that pretty funny. 

"Well, get over yourself, because you're all coming over for my final chance to beat Aaron," Dante announces. 

Aaron laughs. "As if."

"He's the reigning champion," Aphmau adds.

"And I've been practicing, so we'll see about that," Dante says. 

I choose not to say anything, because I have no idea how good they all actually are, so talking myself up could be a potential mistake if it turns out they're all expert professionals, or something. I'm still excited, nonetheless, because we haven't really hung out much outside of school since my birthday, and that was way more fun than I could have imagined. 

As soon as lunch is over, I go to English class on my own, and then theatre with Travis (it was hilarious for us to stage a fight so convincing that people thought it was real), and then it's music class last period. 

I have a pleasant conversation with Aaron, who I get to know a little bit better when he tells me he has about a billion plants in his room and his dog tries to eat them all. He is really not suited for his body. A gentle giant, possibly. 

Garroth is a little quieter than usual, but he assures us that it's because he's just tired and a little hungry, so I offer him a random granola bar from the bottom of my backpack, and when he accepts graciously, I'm basically already walking down the aisle. 

Travis and I - after laughing so hard our stomachs hurt during our theatre class - make an attempt to mess with each other, but we call it quits after he throws his drumstick at my head and I fake cry. Apparently it's super realistic because all three of them immediately start to panic until I look up giggling and strike Travis in the arm with his stick. We go back to work then, him muttering about being annoyed that he fell for it and the other two literally just remembering that I'm an actor and I know how to do that. 

Homeroom may as well have not happened considering I scrolled through social media the whole time, stalking my new friend's profiles to find out what their lives were like before I came into them. Probably not that different, to be honest. When the bell goes, I pass up Dante and Garroth in the halls, and they explain to me that Dante has soccer club so they can't hang out. Garroth and I walk to the parking lot together, and I wave to him as I get into my kind of ugly grey car in comparison to his big, nice, shiny black one. I do not give a shit about cars. My car could literally look and run like a corpse and I'd probably still drive it. As long as I still have my Disney soundtracks I couldn't care less. 

I feel a little closer to him, though. I'm probably the closest with Aphmau and Travis in the group, and Dante and I have a kind of sibling relationship anyway. Aaron and I talk quite a bit actually, but I don't take him for the type to open up easily. With Garroth, however, I've definitely been trying to make myself more memorable for him. I try to message him everyday and I at least have one conversation with him daily, not including the flirty one-liners I throw in sometimes. I am still well aware that he is straight and probably oblivious, but I'm hoping that sooner or later someone in the group will notice that I'm being stalkerish and will take pity on my poor, gay heart. For now, I can just set up camp in the Friend Zone. I will build an entire mansion there if it gets to it. At least it's something. 

My drive home is basically a concert. People can probably hear me screaming along the words to Frozen from across the country. I sound like someone has put a cat in a bag and fucking drop-kicked it. Where's my Grammy?

Mom is in the living room when I get home, watching something on the TV with a mug of whatever in her hands. 

"Hi, Laurance, did you have a good day?" She asks me, smiling sweetly. 

"I guess." I shrug lightheartedly. "What's for dinner?"

"We're getting Chinese takeout," she informs me. 

"Really?" I ask. Usually my mum isn't too keen on eating takeout unless it's a special occasion. 

"I've really been craving it recently," she explains, tapping on her phone with her index finger like all mom's do, "so don't worry about helping me cook tonight. I'll order it in a minute."

"Alright, cool," I say, turning around to the stairs and taking the steps two at a time. I dump my bag on the floor next to the door of my room as I flick the lights on, shrugging off my way too big zipped hoodie and hanging it off of the back of my desk chair to put away later. 

Since my mom occasionally has days in between working at the school, she cleans mine and my sisters room when she feels like it. It's not tidying or anything, but genuinely cleaning, like vacuuming or dusting. She's changed my sheets today, which is the best feeling in the world, so when I flop onto my stomach on my bed I let out a sigh of satisfaction. 

Winter is still well underway, so it's already approaching dusk outside even at about four pm. I don't bother to close my curtains though, because the windows are open and it's refreshing to hear the traffic of rush hour outside as I kick off my shoes and pull my phone out of my back pocket. The group chat of my friends from my old school lights up my phone screen, and so I open the messages to see what they're all up to. It's undeniable that I'm now used to not seeing them at school everyday, but that doesn't mean I miss the company of those I've got to know over several years rather than a couple of weeks. 

I must spend at least the next hour and a half talking to them and discussing the next time we can all hang out, because my mom is already calling me downstairs to set the table. My sister has set out drinks, so I lay the cutlery and listen to mom tell me that the food should arrive just after my dad does. 

She is correct, because following my dad arriving home an announcing that he hates meetings, the doorbell rings and I'm sent to answer it so my mom can listen to her husband and so they're not recognised and asked for a picture. I have the hood of my hoodie up that I pulled on when I was summoned downstairs, so even if the delivery guy does know what I look like, I am unrecognisable due to my gnome head. 

I thank the delivery guy with a smile and take the plastic bag into the kitchen with me, placing it on the table so everyone can organise it appropriately. I'm always the first to steal the seafood because it's my favourite type of food, which gets my dad angry because he likes it too. My mom and my sister think it's gross. They are very wrong. 

We discuss everything under the sun over our meal, including my dance performance, which is tomorrow. It's not difficult for me to admit that I'm nervous to dance in front of my new classmates, but doing it for the first time should relax me a little for the next presentations. 

Since we ate earlier than usual, I choose not to go back to my room after dinner. I sit with my family in the living room, making fun of reality TV with them. My mom hates it so much but we all find the illegitimacy hilarious. I eventually head up to bed a little sooner than everyone else because Lucy just text me asking to skype her and play shitty girl games online and I am never one to say no to that. It's something we used to do all the time when we didn't want to do our class work, so it feels good to reminisce. I go to sleep late into the night (which isn't the greatest idea) feeling irrevocably nostalgic. 

I wake up ready to collapse. I am so tired I'm basically dead. Lucy and I didn't even stay up that late and I still managed to get about five or six hours sleep, but I suppose Friday got the best of me and I am ready for God to take me now. 

Yawning and rubbing my eyes throughout, I ready myself for school. I'll have to get some sugar in me and hope against hope that I'll wake up enough for my performance just before lunch, because if not I am doomed to humiliation. Lucky for me, my hair has a natural wave and I don't have to do much to it if I don't want to, so I don't bother straightening it when I'm feeling lazy. I pick out an intentionally cute outfit that might distract from the puffiness of my eyes, and set on my way downstairs. 

"Someone's sleepy," my dad comments as I make my grand entrance into the kitchen. 

I smile sarcastically, giving my eyes another rub. "Where's mom?"

"She wasn't feeling too good so she's resting in bed," my father explains as I open the egg carton and pick up a random egg to study it. 

"She's been sick a lot lately," I point out, putting the egg back and getting a pan out of the cupboard to put on the lit stove. 

"It's probably just a fever or something," he offers, "it is getting colder."

"Yeah, probably," I shrug, oiling a pan and promptly cracking four eggs into it after I begin to toast some bread, "I'll make breakfast for her, anyway."

He stands up, nodding before heading to our kettle and coffee maker. "Do you want some tea? I'm going to make some for her, anyway."

"Please," I accept graciously, "could you put it in a travel mug so I can take it to school? Oh, and make sure it isn't decaf. I need that this morning." 

He nods, filling the kettle up at the sink. "Did you not sleep well?" 

"Eh, I slept okay," I admit, "guess it's just the end of the week."

"You should probably take a break this weekend," he recommends, "moving is very stressful."

"I can't, I have plans," I explain, "we're going to Dante's house tomorrow to hang out." 

"Who, your friends?" He asks me. I nod. "Won't Gene be there? Am I right I'm thinking that he's Dante's brother?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that," I confess truthfully. I honestly forgot they were siblings - they're so unalike. That might make tomorrow a little more awkward, "I don't know, maybe he won't be there." 

My dad doesn't reply to that as he prepares the mugs for the tea, only the sound of frying eggs and the kettle to be heard. I should stop making fried eggs all the time. I'll try scrambled on Monday.  

I'm also totally not avoiding thinking about Gene. I don't even want to imagine seeing him again. I'm not even that mad at him, I just think I'd perish from the awkwardness rather than his wrath. I can just hide behind Aaron and I'll be fine. He is a big guy. 

The toast pops so I butter it and put it on separate plates, waiting until I decide the eggs are done and serving them with the toast, meanwhile my dad pours the steaming water into each mug. 

My dad takes a plate and a mug to take up to my mom, not vanishing without saying: "Thanks, Laurance, this looks cracking!" And leaving me cringing at his bad dad joke. How can someone be so bad at making bad dad jokes? I'm definitely awake after that. 

Cadenza passes my cackling father while coming down the stairs, arching a brow at my groans in disgust. 

"Dad made a horrible joke again?" She asks as I place a plate at hers, my dad's, and my own seat. 

"Yes," I shiver, "I will never recover. It gave me PTSD."

My sister laughs, tucking some of her now beachy curls behind her ear to get it out of her face as she starts eating. "They're terrible. He should stop trying." 

"I heard that, you bratty child," my dad says as he emerges from the top stairs, taking his seat at the dining table to eat after he makes his way down. 

"Mom okay?" I ask, sipping at the tea he made me. 

"Yeah," he sighs lightheartedly, "she's been better, but it's not too serious." 

I nod, continuing to eat my meal in silence until I'm finished and I have to go. 

My dad was the first to leave, so I only have to bid farewell to my sister before I stand at the bottom of the stairs and practically scream: "Bye, mom!" in my super manly voice until she replies. I get accused of rocking the house by my sister, who's being picked up by a friend today since I don't have time to drop her off and mom can't, and I make my way to my car after giving her a rude gesture and telling her to kiss somewhere she probably doesn't want to. I'm glad my mom can't hear me from here. 

Arriving at school after my boring drive (in which I basically fell asleep at the wheel since my tea did nothing to wake me up more), I find that I'm the last member to join and everyone else arrived earlier today. My hands are tucked into my armpits in an attempt to warm myself up - the weather over here dropping a few degrees from Meteli. It's enough to see my breath in the air. 

Dante offers a seat next to him and I accept, making a shivering noise to emphasise how cold I am to everyone. 

"Why is it so freezing?" I groan rhetorically, rubbing my arms up and down my beige sweatshirt. 

"Because it's Winter, Laurance," Dante reminds me. 

I rub my eyes. "But I'm tired and cold. And sad and gay. I want to cuddle!"

"You're not the only one that's tired," Travis points out, referring to Garroth who has his entire torso sprawled out on the table with a coffee in one hand and his head down. Him being dead actually seems like a possibility right now. 

"Fuck off; I got a full night's sleep last night. I just wanna lay in bed and do nothing," Garroth explains, lifting his head up to sip his drink. He looks at me and tilts his cup slightly. "You want some?"

"No thanks," I smile, "I don't like coffee."

Travis gasps. "That's a crime."

I shrug. "It's gross."

Aphmau seems to agree with Travis with pouty lips as her response, though choosing not to comment on the matter. "Did you stay up late?"

"Yeah, I was on skype to Lucy really late," I tell her. I don't think many other people are listening anymore. 

"I remember Lucinda!" Dante tells me. "She's that girl with the bright orange hair, right?"

"Yeah," I nod, turning back to Aphmau, "she's my best friend from my old school. She was the last girlfriend I had before I came out."

"When did you come out?" She asks. 

"When I was like, fifteen or sixteen," I answer. It feels like I've been out for much less than that, but at the same time, longer too, "my mom and dad already knew when I told them. My mom was obsessed with it - she just wanted to talk about boys with me. Still does."

"That's so cute, though," she reminds me. 

"I guess," I shrug, "I mean, she always used to-"

The bell rings, interrupting me, and I immediately forget what the hell I was talking about when I concentrate so dearly on the sound coming from our school. "Never mind," I say, because I'm probably never going to know what I was going to say, anyway. We all gather our things instead, and Aphmau takes this as an opportunity to discuss how much her mom annoys her about boys, too. 

As per usual, Dante, Garroth and I walk to homeroom together, talking about a piece of homework that Dante found particularly hard. Garroth tells him it was as simple as using what they did in class from before. I learn a new thing today: Dante does not listen in class. I should not have been at all surprised. 

The rest of the morning follows with my five thousand mood swings, constantly changing between overzealous and overconfident, to a nervous wreck. KC already knows I'm dramatic so she tells me - while rather out of character - to suck it up and quit being such a baby. I do, because I'm secretly terrified of what sweet, innocent, bubblegum girl is actually capable of. 

I shouldn't have been so scared for dance, because it goes as perfectly as it did in practice. My peers seem to sense my pride and are genuinely impressed by my abilities, so by the time I'm out of the classroom my ego has probably broken through the atmospheric barrier, and I even get a night off from dance club since our next assignment hasn't been set yet. KC's group performance goes excellently as anticipated, so we intend to sit together to lunch to talk about it for an annoying amount of time. It's my first time inviting someone to sit with us in the group, but since all of them like KC I don't really think they care at all. She's become one of my closest friends in this school, and I could even go as far as saying she's my best over here, since she's expressed how many times she'd like to go shopping with me because we both adore each other's style. 

She doesn't stay for the whole lunch period and instead runs off to meet her friends from her dance group to celebrate, so Dante instead fills us in on tomorrow's plan at his house. 

"Will Gene be there?" I ask. "I really don't want it to be awkward. I kind of don't want to see him."

"Uh," Dante rubs his fingers through his blue hair, artificially tousling it, "he still has his job so he might be home for like, five seconds. I'll make sure he goes up into his room."

"Does he know I'm gonna be there?" I ask. 

"He doesn't know we're friends," he answers. 

"What?" I sigh. "I really hope he doesn't see me now. I can already smell the texts I'm gonna get." 

"Texts don't have a smell," Aaron clarifies, incase he thinks I really am that much of an idiot. 

Honestly, he probably does. 

"It was metaphorical, Aaron," I joke-retort, flopping onto the ground and lifting my head up at Dante, "your brother is so annoying."

"You don't have to tell me twice," he says, looking at his phone. 

"Maybe if I just try to play really awfully, he'll get distracted by how bad I am and then he'll go away," Garroth offers, and I think it's kind of cute. 

"You don't have to try," Aphmau teases, and be just pulls the kind of face you'd pull at a sibling. 

"I know I suck, alright?" He defends. 

I look at my nails. "So do I."

Aphmau is the first to get my innuendo, and kicks lightly at my side, giggling. 

"The question is: do you swallow?" Garroth follows up. 

"Spitters are quitters," Aphmau states. 

"That is a solid piece of wisdom. I agree," I add. 

"Anyway, I'm really not looking forward to being bullied tomorrow. You guys are all so mean when you play games," Garroth tells us. 

"Don't worry, if they're so competitive we can come joint last," I offer, and he smiles at that. 

"Oh, don't get all pouty," Aphmau sighs, leaning over her boyfriend who's engaged in conversation with everyone not on our chat, "you're like, a billion times better at other things than I am."

"Whatever," he says, "at least I watch all the videos you send me, unlike someone I know."

"Someone's salty," I comment. 

"Because all you do is send me bad edits and dog videos," she complains. 

"Why wouldn't you want to watch that?" I ask. 

"Because I'm a cat person," she justifies. 

"Doesn't make dogs less cute," Garroth tells her. That's a pretty valid point. 

I learn a lot about what Garroth and Aphmau look at in their spare time through their conversation, and Garroth even ends up showing me things he finds funny that Aphmau is convinced aren't at all. Garroth has a good sense of humour, though, so I find that what he shows me doesn't match up with Aphmau's opinion. 

Eventually, lunch is over, so I make my way to my class on my own. 

It's weird, now that I know who Katelyn is I see her everywhere. On my way to geography, I see her holding hands with a gorgeous dark-skinned girl, whom I take to be her girlfriend, Teony. Katelyn smiles and waves at me, so I reciprocate as I walk past. Now that I think about it, Katelyn radiates bisexual. My gaydar goes flying. 

I end up sitting next to people I kind of know from homeroom, but I spend the whole class doodling in my book, feeling satisfied about how well my dance performance went and how close I'm getting to Garroth. 

I don't even think I could ever think about Gene in a romantic way again. Not after Garroth. Hopefully that means I've changed for the better, and maybe eventually I might be able to become the best version of myself. Someone that doesn't pine after a guy to fill the gap. 

Wouldn't that be great?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed my work, please consider supporting me and buying me a coffee using this link! https://ko-fi.com/fulltimeaddicted?action=posts


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